Gods and Monsters
by Agent Five
Summary: They changed the plates and ditched the credit cards but there was one trail of clues that did not even cross their minds, until now. And with Henricksen closing in once again, Sam sees only one way left to shake him. And it terrifies him.
1. Arrival

_"Gods and Monsters" takes place between 'What Is And What Should Never Be' and 'All Hell Breaks Loose: Part One.' _

_All canon characters gratefully borrowed from Kripke et al. _

_The rating is for language, adult themes and moderate violence._ _Much kudos to my good friend and Beta, Lillehafrue._

* * *

Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The glass double doors all but contained the chaos erupting beyond them and concealed the noise of the busy emergency department. Outside in the ambulance bay the night was cold, damp and deceptively quiet. The city had long since put its daylight workers to bed and would normally have wound down into uneventful calm as soon as the sun sank under the horizon. But tonight the Brewers had wiped the astroturf with what remained of the Twins and the locals were nursing their wounded pride in bars throughout the city. And hence the broken noses and fractured hands that suddenly came flooding into the ER, bleeding onto the beige floor and impatiently demanding attention.

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest and shuddered as her breaths clouded in front of her face. She tucked her gloved hands under her arms and rocked on her heels, trying to keep warm and reminding herself that shivering out here was a vast improvement on remaining within the battle zone that had developed within the department.

Sudden shouts and groans erupted into the bay and she turned, watching the doors sliding open and smiling as one of the nurses made her rapid escape and jogged away from the entrance.

"Jeez!"

Evelyn's smile grew and she gave a brief nod in agreement.

"I'll never complain again about it being quiet!" The young nurse ventured in amusement, raising her latex-wrapped hands in emphasis. "Ever!"

Evelyn laughed gently and quickly glanced at the nurse's ID tag to read the name of the new team member. Sure they had been introduced, Evelyn felt a pang of guilt at not remembering and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "So, you're the one who jinxed us, huh, Bev?"

"Guilty." Bev's flushed cheeks creased as her smile widened and she sighed an apology. Mirroring Evelyn's pose to try and combat the chill of the air, she instinctively stepped closer to the relative shelter of the older woman and together they turned towards the approaching sirens.

Bev's smile fell from her face and she took a deep breath as she began to recite her immediate trauma management algorithms in her head and saw the first flickers of blue strobes on the buildings along the street from the hospital.

The high-pitched rhythm of the two-tones drew rapidly closer and Evelyn could feel her pulse stepping up a gear as she anticipated the imminent arrival of the bus. She took a step further away from the hospital and unfolded her arms as the ambulance turned the far corner of the street and skidded into view. Watching the approaching bus, she was aware of the junior nurse quietly reciting protocol and it made her smile fondly as she recalled her first few days in the department many years previously.

Evelyn quickly glanced at Bev and opened her mouth to offer gentle reassurance. It was then that the truck flew into the ambulance bay and screeched to a halt mere inches from the two of them.

Instinctively grabbing Evelyn's arm, Bev yanked the doctor away from the skidding truck and almost sent them both stumbling to the ground. Somehow keeping her balance and maintaining a tight grip on Evelyn's coat sleeve, Bev stared at the pick-up in horror and hardly dared breathe.

"Help us!"

Evelyn patted Bev's fingers in gratitude and frowned in concern as she saw the driver's door flung open in a panic. A somewhat scruffy, mid-forties man scrambled from his seat and hurried to the passenger door, grabbing the handle and glancing towards her.

"Please! Help!"

Nodding slowly and edging forward, aware of Bev following closely, Evelyn stepped closer to peer inside the cab and saw the slumped form being cradled on the wide front seat. Seeing the ambulance pull into the bay and steer around the still rumbling pick-up, Evelyn decided the paramedics would be more than capable of transferring their own patient and she spun to Bev.

"I'll get a gurney." Bev acknowledged, guessing Evelyn's thoughts and heading back towards the ER entrance.

"Please!"

Turning back, Evelyn saw the man had grabbed the boy's legs and was beginning to drag the seemingly lifeless body from the truck and she hurried forward. "Wait!"

"Please! He's been shot!" The man urged, almost angrily. "You have to help him!"

Beneath the shadow of his grubby baseball cap, Evelyn met terrified eyes brimming with tears. She nodded and eased past him, stepping up onto the plate and gripping the door rim for support as she leaned inside the cab. Blood soaked the shirt of the perhaps twenty-something boy and glistened on the leather seat, dark clots forming where the bright liquid had gathered. Grasping the hem of the sodden shirt and pulling it aside, Evelyn saw the entry wound a short distance above and to the right of his navel.

As if seeming to register Evelyn's presence for the first time, the woman cradling the boy's shoulders gasped and looked up at her. "Oh god. Please. Help him."

"We will, ma'am." Evelyn assured calmly. Getting her balance as she peered underneath the casualty, she saw the evidence of an exit wound in his back and placed her free hand against the boy's neck. Calculating rate and rhythm, Evelyn sighed and glanced out through the front windshield to see Bev and another nurse running out from the hospital, a gurney guided between them.

"Oh god, no!" The woman began to roll the limp form towards her, her composure long gone and her painful sobs shaking the car and its occupants. "We're too late!"

"No!" Evelyn urged quickly, reaching up to simultaneously give a brief pat of reassurance on the woman's arm and also carefully retrieve the patient from her grasp. "Come on. We need to get him inside." She paused briefly, waiting for the woman to relinquish her hold, and her heart sank as she then saw an unmistakable desperation and grief in the woman's bloodshot hazel eyes. Evelyn took a deep breath and then nodded slowly, trying to convey understanding and assurance. "Please, ma'am." She offered softly, "Let me take a look at your son."

At Evelyn's words, the woman closed her eyes and hung her head, releasing her tight grasp and letting the seemingly lifeless body roll from her. Supporting his neck and calling out instructions to ensure the careful removal of the casualty from the truck, Evelyn retreated alongside him and gave the elder man a brief smile before then hurrying after the trauma team into the ER.

As the doors slid closed, the emergency arrivals bay was suddenly still and silent. The open doors of both the truck and the ambulance hung wide, the vehicles suddenly empty and waiting close to the hospital as if in hope of some news of their former passengers. Much like the man who stood before the closed department doors and stared in stunned stupor at the people within.

And then something stirred him. Wiping a hand over his face and shaking his head in dismay, he turned and ambled slowly back towards the still running pick-up.

"One of us oughta go in there." He offered quietly, leaning on the edge of the door and peering inside. "And we oughta move the truck." Watching the silent passenger slumped in the seat make no response, he sighed and closed his eyes.

"What've we done …?"

"Huh?" Jerking his head up swiftly, the peak of his cap nearly catching on the cab roof, he frowned in concern. "Ellen?"

The woman tore her eyes away from her blood-soaked hands and swung her watery gaze slowly across to meet his confusion. "My god, Bobby … what've we done?"

_Tbc …_


	2. Stranded

_**12 hours previously …**_

Dean looked like crap. Hell, he looked worse than crap. Sam took his eyes off the road for a moment to take in his brother's slouched, sleeping form. The color a hot shower a few hours back had provided was long gone, the pallor and bruises on his skin seeming so much worse in the bright midday sunshine.

Sighing wearily and turning his attention back to the endless grey tarmac, Sam adjusted his position behind the wheel and tried to ease out the tension in aching muscles. It was getting too much. Neither of them would ever admit it, and his big brother would absolutely dispute it, but the past few weeks had been tough. On both of them. What they needed was time to catch their breath and recharge long spent batteries. And in the bright green Minnesotan countryside, beneath a perfect blue sky, it was easy to hope that today might be the day.

And then he remembered the call; the very reason he was gunning the Impala along the back roads across the state. Recalling also the way Dean had literally jumped at the chance to get stuck into a straight-forward salt and burn, he flicked his gaze back at his brother and watched him sleeping.

It was a gift that Sam had never had and a talent that he had thus far not been able to emulate; despite whatever grueling ordeal he might have been through, Dean could climb into his beloved Chevy and simply drive away. He would steam out beyond the town outskirts and leave it all behind. No mess, no fuss, no brooding; once the place was gone from his rear-view mirror, it was pushed to the back of his mind and not mentioned. And he had his own unique ways of dealing with any aftermath.

But last night had been different. Last night there had been no 12-pack, no cheap spirit shooters, no sweet-smelling perfume following his return to the motel room. Last night there had been long, thoughtful silences and the slow, careful movements of a body in more than just physical pain. And, sure that his brother had not slept a wink during the few hours rest Sam had somehow achieved, the early morning had brought with it a Dean needing to talk.

Frowning and chewing his lip at he mulled over the memory of seeing his brash, arrogant brother suddenly so defeated, Sam swallowed back the growing lump in his throat and gripped the wheel. It was a bitter irony that Sam's all but constant urging for his brother to open up to him would suddenly lay upon him things that he did not want to hear, things that he had no answers for. And Dean confessing that his pain over how much they had sacrificed for their work and the grief in his eyes … well, that was right up there with the worst of them.

_But people are alive because of you_. Sam had quickly encouraged, wanting to soothe the pain so openly displayed in his brother's face and desperately wishing he could somehow make it all better. _It's worth it, Dean. It is_. _It's not fair and_ … _you know_ … _it hurts like hell … but it's worth it._

And that's when the world had dropped from under Sam; the look that came over his brother's sad face had spoken volumes. And he had been clueless as to what the hell to do or say. But before he could even fathom the implications, Dean had shrugged off the weight on his shoulders and started packing. The message was clear and Sam had left the subject and his many questions, not wanting to kick his already down brother.

His only solace was in the quiet, grateful way Dean had agreed to Sam's offer to drive. And a few miles out of Joliet, Dean had put his head back and drifted off. It had left Sam alone with only his musing for company but he was glad to see his brother resting at last.

Relaxing back against the seat and yawning wearily, Sam looked out at the lush countryside and took some comfort in the warm sunshine oozing through the windshield. Squinting in the white brightness, he quickly looked round to try and locate the sunglasses Dean sometimes kept nearby and then gasped as the Impala shuddered beneath him.

Flicking his head up and checking both his course and any sign of something in the road that he might have run over, Sam's heart thudded in his ears. Without any obvious cause, again another shudder rocked the steadily cruising car and Sam eased off the gas in confusion.

Looking quickly through the small array of gauges, Sam was at a loss and looked across at his brother. Amazed that Dean had not already sensed the problem and unsure what he should do, Sam reached out to jog him awake. And then there came a sound that could only be described as the exhaust coughing and blue smoke erupted into the air behind them and the rumbling engine began to die.

"What?!" Dean startled awake and sat up quickly, almost banging his head on the roof in his haste. "Sammy? What the fuck - ?"

"I don't know!" Sam replied in a panic, guiding the now spluttering Impala to the edge of the road and onto the grass verge.

"What happened?" Dean insisted, jerking his head between the clouds of smoke behind them and the steam erupting from the edges of the hood. "Shit!"

"I don't know!" Sam repeated, quickly removing his hands from the wheel and switching off the ignition of the already stalled engine. He watched Dean jerk the passenger door open and quickly scramble from the car.

"Pop the hood!" Dean ordered angrily.

Hoping the anger was not directed at him, and quickly running through any potential errors he may have inadvertently made, Sam pulled the lever and saw the hood spring up slightly and more steam wafted up around the edges of the black metal.

Covering his hands with the cuffs of his denim jacket, Dean fumbled for the clip under the front of the hood and grunted in frustration. Wincing, he pulled his hands back suddenly and growled as he shook his rapidly heating fingers. "Son of a bitch!"

Sam winced as he watched his brother try once more to unclip the hood and sighed in relief as Dean then grabbed the front edge and heaved, groaning in effort as he lifted the hood up high. Hearing the grumbled expletive, somewhat muffled behind the hood, Sam grabbed the door lever and climbed carefully from the car.

It looked bad. Not that Sam had any kind of clue as to what 'bad' necessarily meant, but Dean's scowl and the amount of steam and hissing coming from the engine did not paint a good picture.

"What happened?" Dean demanded gruffly, his gaze fixed within the hood.

Unsure if the question was even aimed at him, Sam kept his distance and thought back over the few minutes that had passed before the Impala had shown any signs of being in trouble. He then saw Dean swing his frown up towards him and could only offer an apologetic shrug.

"I mean, what _happened_, Sam?" Dean continued harshly, "Did she rattle? Tremble? Backfire? _What_?"

Sam paused for a moment, hurt by the fury in Dean's eyes. He then explained all of the car's symptoms and watched Dean close his eyes and hang his head in dismay. "What …?" Sam urged timidly. "What's wrong? Can you fix it?"

Dean spat out a brief laugh and shook his head. Standing up straight, he combed his hands through his hair and groaned loudly. "I can't do _anything_ while she's this _hot_!" He replied and turned away from both Sam and the car. "Fuck …!!"

"So …" Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and studied at the still steaming engine. "What … we wait? We need water … or …?" He saw Dean glance back at him and caught the glare that he flung towards his brother. "Hey!" Sam defended quickly, "I hope you're not blaming _me_ for this!"

Dean shrugged a reply.

"What?" Sam demanded, flinging his arms wide and suddenly furious. "Because I was driving, it's my fault, huh? You're the genius mechanic! If something was wrong, then - "

"Okay!" Dean held up a hand and nodded quickly. "Okay! I'm sorry. I didn't - " He sighed and hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Of course it's not your fault … I just - " He trailed off into silence and stared at the grass verge beneath his feet in interest.

Sam nodded and headed back for the car. He opened a rear passenger door and grabbed the map from the back seat.

"Where are we?" Dean asked quietly, approaching his brother and guessing his train of thought.

Frowning, Sam spread the map across the roof and traced a finger along the road he had been following. "We passed by Millville about twenty minutes ago …" Sighing, he took in the sparse terrain around the map location where his finger rested. "Which puts us - "

"In the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, offering Dean a brief smile of apology.

"Great …" Dean leaned closer to the map. "How far are you walking to get supplies, then?"

Sam could not help but chuckle at the presumption and shook his head. Stepping back, he opened the door again and leaned into the car. Grabbing a brown paper bag from behind the front seat, he held it out towards Dean and saw his brother tweak an eyebrow in interest. "Couldn't take the chance that you'd wake and be hungry between supply stops."

"Oh, good boy!" Dean enthused, his face suddenly brightening as he took the bag and peered inside. Grinning in delight, he wandered around the car to slump himself down cross-legged on the grass verge and dig through the delights Sam had collected.

"So …" Sam followed carefully, eager to avoid triggering another outburst and hoping his snack offerings would keep Dean calm for more than a minute. "What's your best guess-timate?"

Dean ripped open a packet of Oreos and chomped down eagerly. "Hmm …" He mumbled, "Hard to say … at best, she needs water and can limp on to the nearest gas station." He threw another cookie into his mouth and shrugged, "I don't wanna think about anything more than that right now."

Sam nodded in understanding and looked across at the rather sorry-looking Impala who was ticking as she cooled. _She_. Chiding himself for catching his brother's sentimentality, he slunk down onto the grass beside Dean and they began the wait.

XXXXX

"Holy - !" Dean leapt back from the engine as though stung and clutched his right hand to his chest, hissing in frustration and pain.

"Maybe you should let it cool down some more."

"Oh, you _think_!" Dean spat back angrily.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, sinking back onto his elbows and looking up at the gathering clouds above them. Wondering in slight amusement if cold rain would actually be quite some help right now, he heard his brother cursing loudly yet again.

"Aw, _hell_!"

Lifting his head and looking over in interest, Sam frowned as Dean leaned further inside the engine and carefully removed yet another component.

"Crap." Dean muttered, balancing the warm metal on the edge of the open hood and leaning his arms against the front grill.

Sam sat upright and brushed dried grass from his hands. "What is it?"

"Head gasket."

"Oh."

Dean shot Sam a frustrated _like you know what that is_ look and then turned back towards the engine, groaning in dismay.

"Got another one?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No." Dean replied, standing up straight and rubbing his oily hands on the thighs of his already blackened jeans. "But it's cool. I'll just Ebay one."

Sam's shoulders sank and he closed his eyes. "Dude …"

"Well, you're not exactly _helping_!"

"What? I don't know, Dean!" Sam argued loudly, his temper shortened by frustration, "You're the one who's always saying how she's a classic and parts are rare!"

Dean spun and advanced on his brother. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, I don't know which bits you've got stashed in with the spare tyre. Shit, dude!" Sam dropped his head and sighed loudly. "You make out like you're the only one up the creek here…"

"Sorry." It was quick and easy, his anger disappearing as fast as it had arrived. "Sorry, Sammy. I …" Shaking his head and reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out his phone and slid the case open. "I gotta call Bobby."

Sam nodded slowly, "And maybe Ellen, too … see if someone else is free to get to the job …?"

Dean paused mid-speed-dial and looked across at his brother. As if suddenly remembering why they had been heading out this way, he groaned and closed his eyes. "Hell …"

"It's only a haunting, Dean." Sam offered carefully, seeing again the weight that sunk Dean's shoulders and drained the color from his face. "It's not like - "

"Not like we're letting anyone down or anything." Dean surmised with sarcasm, glancing back at Sam and then turning away. Putting his phone to his ear, he took a deep breath and waited for the call to be answered.

Watching his brother quickly compose himself and reapply his game-face, even for just a quick phone call, Sam felt something in his chest begin to ache. Unsure how to deal with Dean's despondency, let alone the crazy swings in mood, he hoped that perhaps fixing the car with Bobby might be of help. Sitting and waiting for the past ninety minutes certainly had not and, as the first few drops of rain began to fall, he could not help but dread the next few hours until Bobby could get to them.

_Tbc ..._


	3. Rescue

Reaching forward and wiping his jacket sleeve down the inside of the windscreen, Dean cleared a patch amid the condensation and peered out at the late afternoon. Heavy rain drummed a noisy melody on the roof above him and he sighed in frustration as he checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

His eyes closed and his feigned sleep apparently working as planned -- his stressed brother having left him alone for a short while -- Sam tried to ignore the fidgeting beside him. Heated debates and brooding apologies had swam in the car between them in what seemed like an endless cycle and he had long since had his fill. Departing the Impala and stomping away down the rain soaked road had helped briefly about two hours ago but a combination of chilling damp and guilt had drawn him back for more remorseful silence.

Unsure quite how long Dean had before he simply imploded, Sam was out of ideas as to how to help his antagonizing mess of a brother. Thinking back to occasions when their father would exasperate him in much the same way, Sam felt a guilty sorrow stirring deep within and desperately hoped that somehow he could assist -- or at least grow to understand -- his brother before it was way too late.

"Oh, thank fuck!"

The Impala rocked as Dean wrenched the door open and scrambled out. Sam opened his eyes and gazed up at the car's roof as he heard the truck approach. He heard Dean's idea of a grateful welcome shouted into the rain and Sam sighed in disappointment as he slowly sat up. Climbing wearily from the car, he hurried over to halt the argument before it even got underway and stepped between his cabin fevered brother and an indignant Bobby.

"Shit, Dean!" Bobby fumed, slamming the truck door shut, "I broke god knows _how_ many speed limits trying to get here! I can't _fly_, goddammit!"

Sam spun to Dean and silenced his inevitable rebuke with a warning glare.

"Jeez …" Bobby continued, turning away and heading towards the rear of the truck. "I swear … one of these days, I'll just smack you down …"

Sam saw Dean draw a quick breath, "Hush!" He ordered, and suddenly wanted to laugh. "What _is_ it with you!" He sighed, unable to stop the thin smile that pulled at his lips, and stepped back to go and assist Bobby.

Moving to the open tailgate, Sam leaned under the sodden tarpaulin and reached for the large metal tool box fixed to the truck.

"I think we'll just get somewhere dry." Bobby offered quickly, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder and handing him one end of a thick tow-rope.

Dean emerged around the corner of the van, shuddering slightly as rain soaked into his jacket shoulders. "You don't want to take a look first?"

Bobby shrugged and stepped back, swinging the coils of rope over one shoulder and lifting the tailgate up to slam it shut. "Hell, you know her better than me, Dean." He mumbled distractedly, "You say she's beyond a quick patch up, then I'll take your word for it."

Bobby's words almost lost as he headed off towards the Impala, Sam frowned and glanced back to see Dean smiling briefly. And that was it. Without any definitive clarity to Sam's mind, the two of them had patted each other on the back and all animosity vanished into the rain. As confused as he was relieved, Sam shook his head in despair and crouched down to fix the crampon grip to the metal loop under the tow bar of the truck.

XXXXX

It took a little over half an hour to tow the Impala to the nearest town and Bobby expertly guided her up onto the forecourt of the garage. He left the engine idling and jumped down from the cab, waving in greeting to the mechanic who wandered out to meet him.

Sam watched the exchange and yawned wearily. Glad for the brief respite from his brother's company and the welcome change of seating inside the generous cab of Bobby's pick-up, he stretched his arms out before him and moaned softly.

Certain that nothing would be said to Dean, Sam had relayed his concerns about his brother to Bobby and it had lifted a little of his own weight. Bobby may have only been able to offer the odd shrug and gruff remarks about apples falling from trees but he had listened and Sam was so very grateful for even that.

Watching Bobby nodding in agreement and jogging back past the truck to the tethered Chevy behind, Sam peered into the side mirror and watched him relaying instructions to Dean. Guessing their next move, Sam climbed from the cab and took a deep breath, shivering in the chill that had settled in the air now that the rain had passed.

Together the four of them unhooked the Impala and pushed the heavy, crippled car up into the dry confines of the garage. Bobby quickly introduced the brothers to Leo, the owner of the auto-shop he had thankfully located and contacted under the guise of a (not altogether false) breakdown service engineer.

"Thanks so much for this, man." Dean enthused, shaking Leo's hand eagerly.

"No problem." Leo's lined face crinkled as he smiled and he waved his arm to indicate the large garage. "I hadn't got much on this evening." He then looked back at the new arrival and whistled softly. "'67, huh? What a beauty!"

Sam saw the instant grin of pride that spread across Dean's face and chuckled to himself as the classic automobile admiration began in earnest. Moving round to the trunk, Sam collected his overnight duffel and a few research supplies before then chancing interrupting the muscle car banter going on at the hood.

"Sure." Leo nodded quickly in response to Sam's query. "There's a Motel 6 not ten minutes walk from here."

Memorizing the directions he was given and quickly reassuring both his brother and Bobby that he was completely fine and just needed food and a shower, Sam left the three of them chatting excitedly and headed into the town.

XXXXX

Combing his still wet hair from his face and slumping onto the end of the bed with a grateful sigh, Sam grabbed his phone and entered in the quick dial code. Listening in surprise to the message that greeted him from one of the bar staff, he quickly scribbled down the alternative number he was given and ended the call.

It took a moment for a response and Sam smiled as he heard her somewhat gruff reply. "Hey, Ellen, it's Sam."

"_Sam, honey? You okay?_"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're fine." He briefly explained their predicament and heard her groan of sympathy. "Mmm. Not the best of days." He surmised and took a deep breath. "Listen, we were on our way to a job and - "

"_Not a problem, honey." _There was a pause as she considered his unspoken request. _"I can give you a couple of numbers to try. I'm sure someone will go sort it for you."_

Sam quickly jotted down the names and numbers she recited from memory and offered his thanks.

"_Sure thing, Sam. I'd call around myself for you but I'm driving right now._"

"Oh?"

"_Yeah, heading back from Deluth. Thought it was about time I shared some humble pie with my daughter."_

Sam closed his eyes and felt his heart suddenly grow cold.

"_I'm glad I did, too. She needed some money and … well, you know Jo, she wasn't going to back down and call home."_

His mouth suddenly dry, Sam licked his lips and closed his eyes. "But - " He cleared his throat and clenched his free hand into a tight fist. "She's okay … Right…?" 

"_Yeah! She's fine! Doing better than I'd like to admit!" _Ellen laughed warmly, _"Hell, she's even talking about college and sensible shit like that!"_

Sam released the breath he had not realized he was holding and smiled in relief. "Good."

"_Say … where abouts are you, honey?"_

"Rochester."

"_Shit, I'm not forty minutes out!" _Ellen declared in delight, _"I'll swing buy. Get you boys a mug of whatever passes for beer in that town."_

"Yeah." Sam enthused, his smile growing. "That'd be good."

"_I'll see you soon."_

"Yup." Sam concluded merrily and ended the call

XXXXX

Humming merrily to the local radio station's music selection that blasted out above the static from the battered old stereo, Dean rolled himself back under the hood of the Impala and hefted the socket wrench up inside.

"Got it?" Bobby urged quickly.

Dean tightened the bolt and groaned with the effort. "Yup."

"Man!" Bobby stood up straight and pressed his greasy fists into the small of his back. "When she goes, she really goes with style, huh?"

"Yeah!" Dean agreed with a merry chuckle. "My baby's nothing if not impressive."

"I'll say!" Leo agreed, overhearing their conversation as he returned to the garage with two steaming mugs of coffee. "You sure kept her in good condition."

"Had to." Dean replied easily, grabbing the underside of the drivers door rim and rolling himself back out from under the engine.

"Hmm." Leo nodded thoughtfully, giving one mug to Bobby and then stooping down to hand Dean his. "It's some road trip you guys are doin'."

Dean caught the slight concern in Bobby's interested frown and shrugged slightly. "Well … Sammy's all I got … and when he took a break from college, it seemed a good time to get to know my kid brother."

Leo laughed gently, "By draggin his ass back and forth across the country?"

Dean grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "Oh, he loves it."

Nodding thoughtfully, Leo perched on a pile of tyres next to the Impala and sighed heavily. "Man … my wife and I took off in much the same way once … Route 66 on a '72 Fatboy …" He seemed lost in his memories for a moment and smiled wistfully, "Now … with kids and grandkids and …" Laughing suddenly, he looked back up at Dean and a sparkle danced in his grey eyes. "Lets just say, gone are the days of making out under the stars on the warm leather of a Harley."

Dean smiled in empathy. "I hear you, man …"

"Well." Leo cleared his throat and stood back up quickly. "Speaking of which." He glanced at his watch and sighed slightly. "I have chores."

"Sure." Dean raised his mug before him, "Thanks for this, Leo."

Leo waved one hand dismissively and nodded merrily. "Trudy'll be happy to fix you guys something to eat. I'll send her down."

"Oh, that's okay." Bobby replied quickly, "We don't want to be any trouble. We really should get this done and be on our way."

Leo shrugged and looked between the two of them in interest. "Yeah?" He smiled and headed for the door, adding quietly. "You might think differently once you've tasted her blueberry pie."

_Pie?_ Dean mouthed, glancing eagerly at Bobby. He saw the gentle shake of the older man's shaggy head and groaned in disappointment.

"Well, maybe …" Bobby offered, "If we can get the seals done, at least."

"Goody!" Dean chuckled eagerly and put his coffee down on the cement floor.

"Well, hell, Dean!"

Gasping in surprise, the two men spun towards the open garage doors and watched the woman that strode towards them.

"If I didn't know better," Ellen laughed, "I say you looked almost happy."

"Ellen?" Dean got to his feet and hurried across the garage, smiling in welcome. "Hey, there!"

"Wo!" Ellen halted and backed off from him, raising her hands in amusement as he advanced. "Not with those muddy paws!"

Dean let his outstretched hand fall to his side and nodded in agreement. "Dude!" He enthused, suddenly frowning, "How …?"

Explaining the happy coincidence quickly, Ellen saw the brief flash of dismay in Dean's tired green eyes and quickly nodded. "It's okay. Sam gotta hold of someone for the job." She assured, then looked past Dean and her smile grew slightly. "Hey, Bobby."

"Ellen." Bobby touched the brim of his cap politely. "Long time, no see."

Dean saw the look the two exchanged and the history written in their silent regard of each other. Intrigued, but knowing far better than to even think of prying, he shrugged and turned back to the car.

"So." Ellen took a deep breath and tucked her straw-colored hair behind her ear as she stepped past Dean. "You broke your ride, huh?"

"Oh, she'll be okay." Bobby assured softly, "She's just getting too old for all this."

Ellen laughed and moved forward to reach out and stroke the edge of the ink black roof tenderly. "I know how you feel, honey …"

"Hey!" Dean interjected, hurrying across to his car defensively. "Don't listen to 'em, baby."

Bobby smiled and stooped down to pick up one of the newly cleaned valves at his feet. "Well, she is pushing forty …"

"She's in her _prime_!" Dean corrected merrily and crouched down to collect his tools from beside the front wheel. He smiled up at Ellen, delighted at the easy banter between them, and saw her staring at the shiny black metal of the roof under her fingers. Watching her lost in her thoughts for a moment, he thought he saw something in her somewhat mournful gaze and he was sure he had an answer as to exactly what she and his father had once meant to each other.

"So." Bobby broke the silence that had descended and stepped out from under the hood. "You came to give us a hand?"

"Hmm?" Ellen looked up suddenly and noticed Dean quickly looking away from her. She forced a smile to her lips and seemed to then register Bobby's question. "No. God, no! That's what I pay my own mechanic free pool and beer for!" She stepped back from the Impala and shoved her hands into the pockets of her thick suede jacket. "I just thought it might be nice to have a beer."

"Checking out the competition, huh?"

Ellen glanced down at Dean's boyish grin and smiled back at him. "Something like that."

Dean nodded and peered past her to see the sparkling new Mercedes SUV sitting in the forecourt. "And you dared come near us in that elitist monstrosity?"

Rolling her eyes and regarding Dean in fond amusement, Ellen sighed. "Ash insisted on renting it for me. Said something about providing comfort and cover at the same time." Laughing gently but well aware of the underlying warning in her good friends' words, she suddenly sobered and flicked experienced eyes around them. "We've had some pretty suspicious types dropping in on us of late." She offered under her breath.

Dean wanted to offer some quip about that not being unusual but saw the fear in her hazel eyes and nodded slowly. "We'll be done here in maybe an hour or so." He nodded towards the car and the approaching Bobby. "Then we'll talk." Seeing her somewhat relieved, he reached out to pat her shoulder gently. "Meantime. Go tear Sammy from his books, will ya? All that reading can't be good for a person."

"Already tried." Ellen chuckled, "He said he'd meet us in town later."

Shaking his head slowly, Dean began to turn back to the Impala and then movement in the road beyond the open doors caught his attention. Instinctively stepping back from direct sight of the road, he frowned and watched suspiciously as the blue-grey sedan cruised past the end of the forecourt.

The car was moving too slowly to be just passing by and the smart-suited passenger took a long lingering look at the blue 4x4 and the garage entrance. His heart thudding in his ears, Dean watched the car then pull away and he held his breath as he turned to Bobby and met the same dread in the man's suddenly pale face.

_Tbc ..._


	4. Spooks

The non-descript Ford looked strangely out of place amid the beaten up trucks and sedans of the quiet town. Idling as nonchalantly along the sidewalk as he could manage, Bobby kept one eye on the two occupants of the car and headed carefully in their direction.

Seeing an opportunity opening, Bobby delved into his jeans' pocket for some change and veered towards the soda machine. He frowned as he stood before the large dispenser and peered at the reflection in the shiny plastic casing. Watching the two men talking and wishing he could see enough to try and read their lips in the reversed, blurry image Bobby entered his quarters carefully and made his selection.

Grabbing the ice cold can and chancing a quick glance directly into the car parked behind him, Bobby could feel his heart racing and it was all he could do not to flee back to the garage in a panic. Instead he somehow managed a casual lope back along the street and stepped inside the now closed garage doors.

"Well?" Dean demanded anxiously, standing from his weary lean against the side of his car and trying to read Bobby's sombre expression.

"No doubt about it." Bobby responded quietly, "Federal plates."

"Dammit!" Dean spat angrily, closing his eyes and lifting his hands to his head.

Ellen stared at Bobby in disbelief and then turned her attention to Dean, watching in concern as sorrow and dread washed over his suddenly pale face. "Hell …" She sighed cautiously, "You'd better get out of here …"

Dean flopped his arms by his side and spun to face her, pointing insistently at the open hood of the Impala.

"I'll finish the damned car!" Bobby argued quickly, "Take my truck. Get the hell away from these guys!"

Stunned and uncharacteristically quiet, Dean groaned and turned away from them, hanging his head with a loud sigh. He then took his phone from his pocket and entered the code, closing his eyes once more as he lifted the cell to his ear. "Sammy! We've got trouble ..."

Ellen took her eyes from Dean and shook her head in dismay as she met Bobby's equal concern. She then saw the doubt that crossed his face and felt adrenaline surge through her. "Don't even _go_ there, Bobby Singer!" She hissed in warning, crossing the distance between them in a couple of angry strides.

"You _sure_ …?"

"Shit, Bobby, remember who you're talking to!" Ellen retorted in restrained fury, "I know how to cover my tracks, goddammit!"

Bobby nodded slowly, offering only a shrug in response and stepping past her to head across to Dean. The younger man had finished his call and was staring in silence at the cell in his hand. Placing a gentle pat on Dean's shoulder, Bobby spun back to Ellen and tossed her a set of keys. "Take my truck and go get Sam."

Ellen nodded in quiet agreement.

"Dean - "

"I'm staying."

Bobby gasped slightly, "No, Dean, you need to - "

"I'm staying, Bobby." Dean repeated, a little louder. He lifted his head and met Bobby's worried frown with a determined shake of his head. "They want me more than Sammy … he'll have a better chance of getting clear." He looked away from the disbelief in the older man's eyes and nodded towards the Impala. "And two of us will finish this much faster."

Ellen hurried forward to add her voice to the protest but then saw the warning glare Dean shot her and swallowed back her response.

"Please." Dean affirmed sternly.

With a small nod, Ellen glanced at Bobby and then frowned as she peered through the workshop. Seeing the rear exit, she took a deep breath and hurried across the garage.

Without another word, Dean stepped round to the front of the Impala and collected one of the remaining engine parts from the nearby shelf. Frowning in concentration, he studied the newly cleaned component and leaned under the hood.

"Just typical, huh …?" Bobby offered quietly and stepped up beside Dean at the front of the car. "Just think of all the mystical bastards you've faced and won … and now it's the damned humans that are being a monster pain in the ass …"

Glancing briefly up at Bobby, Dean saw the timid smile he was offered and understood the older guy was simply trying to lighten the mood but it wasn't helping. "Yeah … guess I screwed us up real good, Bobby."

"And what in the hell does that mean?"

"I got complacent." Dean shrugged, "Made errors."

"You can't - "

"No?" Dean suddenly straightened and faced Bobby squarely. "How else would you explain it? Huh? No one else left a trail for them to find."

Bobby regarded Dean for a moment and saw the sadness and bone-weary exhaustion in his watery green eyes. "You can't take it all on like this, Dean … sometimes … hell, sometimes it's just damned bad luck." His lips tightened and then slowly smiled beneath his unkempt beard. "Not everything is on you …"

Dean scoffed dryly and dropped his eyes back to the task at hand. "Sammy been filling your head with his dewy-eyed nonsense, huh?"

"Not all of it is nonsense."

Dean appreciated the gentle wit in the response and could not help but smile. He nodded and leaned down to affix the component. "I guess …"

Sensing he might be getting somewhere, Bobby laughed easily and handed Dean another of the final few parts to reattach. "And he's right about taking a break every once in a while … no one can keep going the way you do." He tapped the hood of the Impala lightly, "No matter how well you seem to be doing, too much stress and you blow a gasket."

And at that Dean laughed gently, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Ooh, low blow, dude!" He grinned up at Bobby and then suddenly sobered, swallowing back the unexpected lump in his throat as he beheld his friend's concern. "Yeah … I hear you …"

"Good."

"You're getting soft in your old age, Bobby."

Bobby gasped, "Hey! Less of the 'old', you little - "

Dean frowned at the abrupt halt and stood up straight, watching Bobby's worried eyes darting around the garage. And then he heard it; the hiss and crackle of interference on the radio and then the silence of lost signal. A gentle flicker of the overhead lights then made the pair of them both duck instinctively and Dean stepped a little closer to Bobby. "Oh, this can't be good…"

Husking a groan in response, Bobby followed Dean to the trunk of the Impala and took the salt-loaded gun he was offered. He then heard noise outside in the town and frowned as he headed for the door.

Dean slipped a silver hip-flask into his pocket and loaded a few salt rounds into his own shotgun. He watched as Bobby carefully opened the wide garage door and peered cautiously through the small crack. Wind suddenly picked up beyond the aluminum doors and Dean tensed as he heard it screeching overhead. And then he frowned as he focused on the strange high-pitched sound and was unsure if it was caused by the wind.

"Crap …"

Intrigued, Dean closed the trunk lid and hurried over to Bobby. Straining to peer over the older man's shoulder and through the small opening, he watched the flock of black birds that swept down from somewhere above them and flew towards the centre of the town.

There must have been twenty or so of the crow-like creatures and they suddenly halted, swarming in a whirlpool-like pattern at the edge of the quiet road. His gaze falling from the birds to the familiar blue-grey sedan, Dean's frown deepened. "What the hell …?" He then gasped as Bobby swung the door wide and stepped out into the forecourt. About to protest, he saw Bobby raise a hand to still him and backed down obediently, curiosity and dread making his heart race.

Bobby squinted as he peered out into the fading light and watched the birds land one by one on the car they had targeted. He looked in on the occupants and held his breath as they suddenly began to panic, their bodies darting about and rocking the car back and forth. Sure he could make out frightened shouts from within the vehicle, Bobby then heard the engine then roar into life.

The birds lifted into the air rapidly as the sedan reversed from its parking space and the squeal of skidding tyres pierced the quiet evening before the car made off at speed. Flocking together, the birds turned and ascended above the buildings and headed North. With a groan of dismay, Bobby watched them disappear from sight and his shoulders sank. "Oh no … _Sam_!"

* * *

The sudden urgent knocking tore him from his book and Sam flicked his head up towards the door. Frowning, he clambered from the bed and padded across the small motel room to unlock the door.

"Sam!" Ellen tumbled into the room and grabbed his arms tightly. "We gotta go!"

"What?" Sam gently shrugged free of her grip and moved back from her. "Where?"

"Anywhere but here." Ellen replied breathlessly and peered around at the belongings scattered across the furniture. "Why haven't you packed? Dean told you to - "

"It's okay." Sam smiled quickly and reached out to place his hand on Ellen's shoulder. "I know what Dean said, but it'll be okay."

"Hey?" Ellen frowned up at him in confusion and watched him nod gently. "Are you stoned, or something? The damned feds are - "

"I know."

Unable to fathom how Sam could be so calm, Ellen watched him smiling and nodding in reassurance. She stepped closer, about to continue to convince him otherwise, but a gentle knock at the door interrupted. Instinct made her reach behind her to touch the pistol snugly concealed in the waist of her jeans and she took a few cautious steps towards the door.

Turning back as she reached the door, Ellen saw that Sam was now suddenly serious and her heart was thudding against her chest as she went up onto tiptoes to peer through the tiny spyhole in the door. Gasping slightly, she beheld the strangely disfigured image of the suited man and sprang back from the door as if it had stung her. "Shit! They're _here_!"

"It'll be okay."

"What?" Ellen spun at him, gaping open-mouthed at the return of his gently smiling calm.

Sam gave a small shrug and stepped forwards, reaching past her to grasp the bolt and unlock the door.

"Sam!" Ellen blocked his path and pressed her hands into his chest, moving him backwards. "Are you _crazy_?"

"No." Sam held her astonished gaze for a moment and the smile fell from his mouth with a weary sigh. "I'm tired." He closed his eyes and let his head flop down, groaning softly. "I'm tired of running."

"What?" Ellen let her hands slide from his chest and then grabbed his arms, giving him a rough shake. "Listen to me! Snap out of it! You need to get _out _of here!" She saw his head shaking in dispute and gave him another, stronger shake. "Sam!" Another knock at the door made her flinch and she could well imagine the Fed preparing to burst into the room at any second.

"Not this time."

Ellen watched Sam lift his head and something inside her froze as she met his weary but determined eyes.

"We can't escape them forever." Sam urged quietly, "I'm not running any more." He carefully shrugged from her grasp and gave her a quick, apologetic smile as he moved her aside and slid back the bolt.

"Sam, no!" Ellen breathed, retreating back into the room as she watched him open the door.

_Tbc ..._


	5. Summons

_A/N: a couple of you seem confused. My hope was to keep you guessing but not to mess with your brain! Hope this chapter helps. Thanks again to my bitch & beta. Lil, you're FAB!_

* * *

Ellen backed across the room away from the door and looked on in disbelief and fear as Sam welcomed the guest inside. She watched them both nodding in quiet greeting and her head was spinning as the smartly dressed boy turned to her and smiled warmly.

"Hello, Ellen."

Gasping in fright, Ellen drew her pistol and aimed it squarely at him. "Who the _hell_ are _you_?" She demanded, her hands trembling as she saw him regarding her in assured calm.

"No!" Sam stepped in front of the visitor and held up his hands. "Ellen, don't!"

Moving her eyes from the amused smile of the stranger to Sam's earnest frown, Ellen's heart was pounding in her ears and she shook her head in confusion.

"Ellen, it's okay." Sam urged, chancing a step forward and forcing a smile to his lips. "He's here to help us."

"What?" Ellen gasped, peering past Sam to see the stranger still looking on in amusement. He was taller than Sam but similarly built, his broad shoulders giving him him a maturity that his young face did not match. He was not unpleasant on the eyes but something about his pale face made her skin crawl and she shuddered involuntarily. Tearing her eyes from him and turning back to Sam, she could feel frightened tears forming. "What the hell is going on, Sam? Who is this guy?"

"Go ahead. Tell her." The stranger chuckled softly.

"Shut up!" Sam demanded, glancing quickly behind him to shoot a warning glare at his guest. He then looked back at Ellen and took a deep breath. "Listen, I can explain. Okay? Just calm down … put down the gun …"

Pausing for a moment, Ellen tried to clear her thoughts and then gasped as something thudded against the window behind her. She turned and frowned as she saw nothing but the tops of the bare trees beyond the glass. And then a group of large black birds suddenly swooped down and pounded against the window. Gasping in fright, she looked on in horror as the birds flew back a short way from the window and then again swung themselves at the glass.

"Malphas, _stop_!"

Hearing Sam's angry shout, Ellen spun back and saw him glaring at the strange man. And suddenly she understood. "Oh god, Sam … you haven't …"

* * *

Hitting redial and lifting his phone to his ear yet one more time, Dean closed his eyes and groaned softly. "Oh hell, Sammy … where are you …?" He peered up and down the quiet centre of the town and clenched his fist at his side. Since the Feds had hot-tailed it out of the town a few minutes ago, an eerie calm had descended and Dean was starting to panic. The lights had flickered back on soon after the birds had disappeared and the radio was transmitting as normal but something didn't feel right.

Listening to his call switching straight to Sam's voicemail yet again, Dean slammed his cell shut and groaned in dismay. "Dammit!" Spinning round to meet Bobby's equally concerned expression, he shook his head and then stomped quickly towards Bobby's truck. "I gotta get over there."

"What?" Bobby hurried after him, grabbing his arm and pulling back from the cab door. "Wait! What if there's more spooks about?"

Dean shrugged free of his grasp and shook his head in earnest. "I need to know what the hell is going on, Bobby."

"Then I'll go see." Bobby suggested quietly. "You finish the car. Keep out of sight."

"But - "

"Dean!"

Dean flinched slightly at the sudden anger in Bobby's voice and his heart skipped at the all-too-familiar tone that was addressing him. Instinct made him nod and back away from the truck. "Yes, sir."

As if in apology, Bobby reached out to pat Dean's shoulder and seemed about to add something further. Deciding against it, he looked away and climbed up into the cab.

* * *

"Sam?" Ellen urged quietly, her voice cracking in her tight throat. "Tell me he's not what I think he is …"

Sam flicked his head back at Ellen and saw her disbelief. He had no reply and could only watch her realization turning into disappointment.

"Oh dear." Came a gentle chuckle from behind him. "Secret's out, huh?"

Sam looked back at his guest and frowned in confusion.

Malphas was grinning in obvious delight and shrugged his shoulders. "I give her 3 seconds before she totally freaks."

"What?" Sam husked.

"Sam, what the _hell_ have you done?" Ellen suddenly demanded angrily.

"_One_ …" Malphas smirked, counting on the fingers of one hand.

"Shut the fuck up!" Sam spat impatiently.

"Sam Winchester, are you listening to me?" Ellen continued, advancing on him. "That thing will - " And suddenly she stopped, her body froze and her eyes rolled back into her head. With a slight groan, her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed to a heap on the carpet.

"Ellen!" Sam dropped to the floor and quickly leaned over her, checking her unresponsive form.

"Women, huh?"

Sam turned and stared up at Malphas in dismay. "What have you done to her?"

"Oh, nothing permanent." Malphas waved a hand dismissively. "She was becoming annoying." He crossed the room and peered out of the window with calm disinterest. "Anyway ... you and I have business to discuss."

Sam slowly got to his feet and headed over to him. Usually taller than everyone around him, Sam found it odd and yet equally refreshing to have to look up slightly to meet Malphas' even gaze. "Listen, you can't just - "

"What?" Malphas' smile fell from his mouth and he glared at Sam. "This is my game, Sammy. If you don't like the rules, you should never have asked to play."

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head, his shoulders sinking as he groaned softly. He took a few steps backwards and met the edge of the bed behind him. Sagging down onto the soft mattress, he sighed and shook his head slowly. "I must be insane …"

"Quite possibly."

Sam lifted his head and watched the young man regarding him in fond amusement. There was something oddly familiar about the dark eyes that held him in a steady gaze and he watched him in curiosity.

"I was so pleased when you called." Malphas offered quietly. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to meet you."

Sam's heart was suddenly in his throat and he clutched the edge of the mattress tightly. "Oh?"

"Oh please!" Malphas waved both hands in exaggeration. "Don't be so modest!"

Sam watched him laughing merrily and he took a deep breath, his mouth dry as he tried to find the words to ask what he needed to know. "Do you … do you know of the plans for me?"

"Wo!" Malphas laughed a little harder and leaned one elbow casually on the window sill. "Straight in there, huh?"

Watching expectantly, Sam frowned and then threw up his hands in slight impatience. "Well?"

Malphas gave a heavy sigh and turned away from Sam. He slid back one of the glass panelled windows and leaned forward to hold one hand out through the opening, smiling as a large black bird landed gently on his wrist.

Sam looked on in wonder as another four birds then swooped down from seemingly nowhere and balanced agilely on the window frame. He watched as Malphas greeted each of them, stroking their chests and smiling fondly.

"Believe me, I wish I could give you some answers." Malphas responded quietly after a time, glancing back towards Sam. "But I don't tend to mingle in those social circles any more." He shrugged and turned his focus back to his birds, smiling as they gently warbled in greeting. "Now … who else do you need us to get rid of?"

As if only now fathoming exactly how huge a can of worms he had opened, Sam groaned and hung his head.

"_Who's _coming?_"_

Flicking his head back up, Sam saw Malphas was apparently having a conversation with one of the crows and suddenly wanted to smile; he could well imagine the smart remark his brother might make at such a strange sight. The thought of Dean made his stomach turn and he swallowed back the rising bile as he watched Malphas quickly urge the birds to flee.

"Shit!"

"What?" Sam urged, getting to his feet.

"He's coming!"

Sam's heart was suddenly racing, several possibilities spinning in his mind. And then he heard the thudding of someone running along the corridor. Instinctively grabbing for the open kit bag on the end of his bed, he curled his fingers around the handle of one of the revolvers and turned towards the door.

He saw the hatred and fear that flashed in Malphas' eyes and shook his head in confusion. And then he gasped in horror as Malphas took a few steps back from the window and then launched himself through the opening.

It was instinct that made him grab for the departing figure. Despite knowing full well that someone like Malphas was in no danger of falling to his death, Sam could not fight the impulse to try and save him. But all he grabbed was armfuls of air and his vision was blurred by the cloud of black smoke that erupted around him, disappearing as quickly as it had formed. And Malphas was gone.

Sam paused by the window, stunned and more than a little baffled. He then heard the shout from the corridor and smiled in relief. He spun and headed quickly over to the door.

"Bobby!" Sam greeted merrily, opening the door and bidding the flushed man to enter.

"You okay?" Bobby demanded breathlessly, frowning up at Sam in concern as he stepped inside. He then saw the slumped body on the floor and hurried over to the slowly waking Ellen. "Shit! Sam? What happened?"

"I … erm …" Sam flicked his hair from his eyes and laughed gently, clueless as to how to even begin -- and not sure if he should tell the complete truth. He watched as Bobby helped Ellen to sit up and she shook her groggy head, glancing up at Sam to shoot him an angry glare. And Sam knew he was in trouble.

"It was a demon, Bobby." Ellen managed huskily, shuffling back to lean heavily against the bed behind her. She closed her eyes and held her head in her hands.

"What?" Bobby turned to Sam expectantly.

Sam shrugged a response. "I … well …" He smiled nervously, "Bobby, I - " He stopped as he saw Bobby's attention had been taken by something on the small desk under the window. He followed his gaze and groaned in dismay.

Bobby was on his feet and across the room in a heartbeat. He slammed shut the faded yellow pages of the large book and then spun at Sam, shaking his head in disbelief."Good _god_! You shouldn't be messing with stuff like this."

"Bobby, I know what I'm do - "

"_Bullshit_!" Bobby countered in fury, "My lord, Sam! What have you _done_?!" He shook his head in horror and dismay, glancing at Ellen as she gingerly got to her feet and then sat heavily on the edge of the bed. "How could you be so _stupid, _boy?!"

Sam stared at Bobby in tight-lipped indignancy, unable to believe he was being chastised in such a manner. Suddenly feeling as though he was eleven years old and caught red-handed with the loaded shotgun that was no longer out of his gangly-limbed reach, he felt embarrassment and anger redden his cheeks.

"Shit …" Bobby turned away from Sam and leaned his arms on the edge of the desk, staring down at the worn, leather-clad book. "Who is it?"

Sam cleared his throat and glanced warily at Ellen. "Someone who can help us."

And Bobby gave a derisive chuckle. "Oh _please_ … tell me you're not serious …"

"Very." Sam countered.

Bobby then saw the black feather that lay on the ledge by the window and reached out to grasp it in his worn fingers. He then recalled the crows that had swooped down onto the Feds' car and he nodded in understanding.

"I'm tired of running, Bobby." Sam explained quietly, "And I'm tired of being afraid."

Bobby turned slowly and met Sam's determination. "This isn't the answer, Sammy."

Sam's jaw tightened and he nodded quickly. "No? Then what is? Huh?" Sam grated, advancing on Bobby and anger flashing in his eyes. "Tell me!"

"Sam!" Ellen cautioned carefully, moving towards him.

"No!" Sam backed quickly away from both of them and shook his head in defiance, his chest heaving as his breath came in angry gasps. "You gave me that book, Bobby! You knew what it contained!"

"I never meant for you to do something like _this_!" Bobby argued, "God, Sammy, I - " He hurried forward and gasped as Sam shoved him away roughly. He looked up into eyes full of pain and confusion and his heart sank.

Sam then grabbed the duffel from the bed beside him and swung it over his shoulder. He stepped closer to Bobby once again and glared down at him in frustrated anger. "It's _Sam." _He corrected icily. "I'm not a child."

Ellen shuddered involuntarily at the sudden chill in the room and watched in unease as Sam tore open the motel room door and was gone.

_Tbc ..._


	6. Busted

It took a moment for the digital melody to register in his distracted thoughts and then Dean suddenly recognized the tune and grabbed his jacket from it's crumpled resting place on the work bench. Fumbling for his cellphone, Dean's hands shook as he answered the call and gasped a response into the handset.

"_Dean …_"

Dean frowned at Bobby's strange, quiet tone and held his breath as he waited for him to continue, his heart racing.

"_It's a chaos demon._"

Dean doubled over as if Bobby's words had physically slammed into him and he steadied himself with his free hand, leaning a clenched fist on the wooden work bench.

"_We're working on getting rid of it but … it might take some time …_"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed out the breath he had kept tight within. "And Sam?"

"_We think this particular demon alters perception. Don't trust everything you see. And don't let any of those crows we saw get anywhere near you."_

Nodding in agreement, Dean glanced across the garage and saw the thick line of white granules that lined the inside of the door and continued around the edge of the large garage. And then he realized the question that had been evaded. "Bobby? Where's Sam? Is he - ?"

"_He's fine."_

It was curt but it was what Dean needed to hear and there was no time to worry over the something in Bobby's voice that Dean could not quite place. With a nod, he turned back to look at the Impala and took a deep breath.

"_We're heading back soon._" Bobby offered quietly, "_Be careful, okay?_"

"Always." Dean acknowledged and ended the call. Dropping the phone on top of the jacket, he moved away from the work bench and faced the Impala.

Dean leaned on the top of the grill and let a heavy sigh land gently across the gleaming engine beneath him. Weary, worried and more than a little hungry, he gazed down at the finished puzzle of new and restored valves and gaskets. She was finally complete. All he need do now was refill the water tank and top up the gas. That, and pray to whoever might be listening that she turned over without a hitch.

Standing upright and rolling his fists into the tight knots at the base of his spine, Dean groaned a yawn and peered around the otherwise empty garage. Not wanting to pilfer through all of Leo's stuff -- and a vague memory of pie making his stomach grumble -- Dean turned towards the rear entrance. Wiping his hands on an already grubby rag and heading across the garage, Dean took a last quick look at the gaping hood of his baby and stepped out into the night.

The radio had just started to announce the latest headlines as Dean walked from the garage and he frowned in concern. It was already after ten and he wondered if Leo and his wife might have already turned in. Climbing the steps up behind the garage and reaching the faded decking, Dean paused and listened at the back door to the large property. Hearing noise within, he rapped gently on the screen door and waited.

The rear door opened slowly and beyond Leo's figure, Dean could see the dimly lit kitchen and the smell of a day's baking rushed out into the night air. Smiling merrily, Dean reached for the handle of the screen door.

"Stop!"

Dean gasped slightly at the command and peered in uncertainty at Leo. The man's face was hard to read due to the light behind him but the rifle that he suddenly aimed at Dean was blatantly obvious.

"Don't come any closer!" Leo ordered, the crack in his voice betraying the fear that he was doing fairly well at hiding.

"What?" Dean demanded carefully, stepping back from the screen door. "Leo?" Recalling Bobby's words, he considered the fact that either he or Leo was right now facing some sort of crazy illusion, but it was impossible to chance that the rifle might not be as real as it certainly seemed.

"I know who you are." Leo continued hurriedly, "I've already called the cops."

Dean's heart slammed against his chest and his mouth was suddenly dry. "You … you did _what_?"

"Stay back!" Leo shouted suddenly, cocking the rifle and gripping it a little tighter.

Realizing that his dread had been mistaken for anger, Dean raised his hands calmly and gave a small weary sigh. "Leo, listen to me. I - "

"Don't!" Leo continued, stepping bravely through the open kitchen door and pressing the barrel of his rifle into the cream mesh of the screen door. "Just turn around and leave us alone!"

Dean paused for a moment in uncertainty and watched Leo glaring angrily down at him. Now better able to read the man's expression, he could see frightened tears welling in his eyes and it brought a lump to his throat. "What happened, Leo?" He chanced asking quietly, "What did I do?"

Leo seemed unsure how to respond and was clearly having trouble remaining angry with the boy he had been chatting merrily with just a short time before. "The radio." He answered huskily, "They just said you're wanted by the FBI."

Dean shuddered and his breath caught in his throat. Confused and suddenly more than a little worried, he heard the question that laced Leo's voice and licked his lips as he carefully thought out his response. "God …" He closed his eyes and hung his head with a sigh. "God, Leo, I'm so sorry …" Waiting for a second, he then looked back up and could see Leo watching him expectantly. "I should have been honest with you … I'm so sorry …"

"What?" Leo stepped back a little and his grip on the rifle seemed to relax somewhat. "What do you mean?"

Dean liked the old guy. Liked him a lot in fact. And it troubled him that he suddenly wanted to tell the kind mechanic everything. The whole truth. But that would take an age to explain and there was simply not time.

"It's my brother." Dean began quietly, an idea building in his mind. "He's wanted because he's a key witness to a murder. But …" Seeing Leo listening intently, he took a deep breath and continued. "The people he'd testify against have put out a hit on him. And - despite their promises - the FBI can't keep him safe. Only I can."

Leo lowered the rifle a little.

"And … a few weeks back the hit-men caught up with us and …" Dean felt the lump in his throat tighten as his hastily invented story began to merge with truth in his troubled thoughts. "He's all I've got, Leo. It's just us. And I have to protect him."

The rifle was now being held in just one of Leo's large, worn hands and the barrel pointed at the floor. His frown softened and he reached out to gently push the screen door open. "I don't know why …" He shook his head and gave a small smile, "But there's something about you, Dean … I just hope I don't regret trusting you."

Dean nodded in agreement, desperately also praying that the kind old guy would not get hurt by being caught up in the mess that was his and Sam's life right now. He stepped inside the house and followed Leo into the kitchen.

"Trudy's already turned in for the night." Leo offered quietly, placing the rifle by the back door and leaning it against one of the cupboards.

Dean watched Leo heading across the kitchen and frowned in concern. "Have you really called the police?"

Leo sighed and glanced back as he reached up to open a cupboard above the stove. "No." He chuckled nervously and shook his head. "Man! It's been a long time since I've been that scared!" He took down a bottle of whiskey and uncorked it quickly, taking a long gulp.

"I'm sorry."

Leo wiped a few stray drops of whiskey from his white-stubbled chin and turned to Dean, his frown slowly making a return.

"I never meant for any harm to come to you or your wife." Dean continued, his shoulders heavy and his voice uneven as his honest words spilled easily forth. "But … it seems all I do these days is cause people pain …"

"What d'you mean?"

As if suddenly registering that he had said aloud the thoughts sitting heavily in his mind, Dean backed a way a little and shook his head. "Nothing." He forced a brief smile and gave a half-hearted shrug.

Leo slid the cork back into the whiskey bottle and wandered slowly back across the kitchen towards Dean. "You boys really are in trouble … ?"

Dean swallowed back the tight ball in his throat and gave a small, strained laugh. "You could say that." He saw the concern in Leo's gentle face and felt an almost physical need for the older man to put his arms around him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Setting the bottle on the kitchen table, Leo studied Dean for a moment and then smiled warmly. "You know, I can't help but think that if you were my boy and …"

_Oh god. Please, no …_ Dean could feel tears building and was suddenly in unfamiliar territory, yearning for comfort and suddenly feeling so very alone and afraid. It caught him off guard and instant defenses shot up as he suddenly remembered Bobby's warning. Grating his teeth together and feeling anger bubbling deep within him, he envisaged the evil son-of-a-bitch demon watching him and finding amusement in the confusion he was creating.

Leo watched Dean's eyes darting around as if looking for something and ventured closer to him. "Dean?"

Gasping slightly, but suddenly focused, Dean backed away from Leo and hitched a thumb towards the door behind him."I've finished the repairs. If I could please just get some water and some gas."

"Sure." Leo nodded and followed after Dean's hastily retreating form.

* * *

The alley behind the motel was wide and empty, partially lit by a single white security lamp on the far end. Sam sat on the bottom step of the metal fire escape and stared down at the duffel bag at his feet. Resting his elbows on his slightly raised knees, he let his head sink into his hands and sighed into the semi-darkness.

And then he heard it; the slightest crunch of boot against asphalt. Lifting his head and turning to look along the alley, he saw the man approaching.

Sam watched the figure near, conflicting emotions spinning in a whirlpool deep within him; every hunter's instinct told him to be on heightened alert and yet there was also the strange, unexplainable knowledge that there was nothing to fear.

"Samuel."

Smiling briefly, Sam paused in uncertainty and remembered the vanishing act of a few minutes ago. Unsure if his mind was filling in the gaps within the strange projection beside him or whether the demon was powerful enough to appear so corporeal, he then frowned in interest and held the figures gaze. "Why have you not- ?" Swallowing back the bile in his throat and shoving painful memories quickly from his thoughts, Sam shrugged slightly. "Y'know …"

"Possession takes a great deal of energy." Malphas replied, "And besides … I can have more fun this way."

The notion made Sam's stomach turn and he looked away to study his interlaced hands in interest. "I take it you've met Bobby before."

Malphas laughed gently, "Mmm … we crossed paths once."

Sam flicked his head up in interest.

"He doesn't like me very much."

"No shit!" Sam agreed in amusement. "People like us have good reason not to like any of you very much." He watched Malphas' smile fade and looked back down at his hands.

"But we have our uses, I take it."

"Just this once."

Giving a loud sigh and shaking his head slowly, Malphas stepped past Sam and sat down beside him on the steps. Looking down at the bag of equipment nestled at Sam's feet, he frowned and turned to Sam. "It would be so much easier if everything was black and white. But you and I… Sam, we understand the grays in between …"

Sam drew breath between his clenched teeth and closed his eyes. "Listen … Malphas … I - "

"I am not like _him_, Sam."

A gentle gasp and Sam's head was spinning, part of him unable to fathom that he was conversing with a demon and the rest of him needing to know so much more.

"It's not as simple as most mortals believe … there are those of us who … well, we _like_ you fragile creatures." A gentle chuckle and Malphas rested back, leaning his elbows on the steps behind him. "Me? I just enjoy playing ..."

"Glad I could be of service." Sam responded dryly.

"And yet you hesitate …?"

Sam had no reply.

"I get it." Malphas shrugged slightly. "I know how it must feel. You've been trained all your life to hunt … and there are some evil monsters out there."

Sam suddenly sat upright and gave a derisive snort, turning to stare at Malphas in disbelief.

Malphas gave him a quick glare of warning and shook his head slowly, his long black hair swinging across his eyes. "I'm too old for all that shit." He offered quietly, "I'm not interested in his war."

Not quite able to get his head around the conversation and sure he must be losing his mind, Sam watched Malphas in interest for a moment. Despite all that he had seen since his father had opened the door to the world of the supernatural and changed their lives forever, Sam found it hard to believe that the twenty-something sitting beside him was a demon older than the universe. "Why pick this form?"

"For you."

Sam frowned uneasily.

"You resent your elders for treating you like a child and you miss the company of your peers." Malphas answered easily. "It comes off you in waves, Sam. I could read you from the other side of the world." He saw Sam edge back from him warily and gave him a smile of reassurance. "And you can read me just as easily. It's how you know you can trust me."

Sam took a moment to absorb this new information and mentally filed it under 'need to know more' as he returned the smile. "I wouldn't go as far as 'trust'."

Malphas shrugged, "As you wish." He kept his steady gaze on Sam and his features softened a little. "You know … it's not wrong to be willing to do anything to protect the ones you love."

"Right." Sam groaned and got to his feet, dragging his hands through his hair and sighing wearily. "Tell me it's a 'necessary evil' and I might just incant your ass back to - "

"Others have done far worse for far less noble reasons."

Sam let his hands drop by his side and, his shoulders heavy, looked down at Malphas in interest.

"Revenge, for example. That's a nasty one."

His heart racing and unsure quite where Malphas was going with this, Sam's thoughts span with memories of being filled with rage and a powerful need to avenge so many deep hurts.

Malphas sat back up straight and watched Sam in concern. "Like the one who betrayed you."

"What?" Sam breathed.

"He made a deal for a lighter sentence and tipped off the FBI. It's how Henricksen has found you." Malphas slowly got to his feet and edged closer to the rapidly panicking Sam. He reached out and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, nodding in gentle sympathy. "And he's closing in."

"Dean!" Sam gasped and stared at Malphas, wide-eyed and trembling. Stooping quickly to grab his duffel, he swung the bag over his shoulder and started towards the end of the alley way. "Hurry!" He ordered gruffly, aware of Malphas following close behind him.

Malphas nodded and began to jog after Sam but something caught his attention and he looked up to the top of the fire escape, crying out in alarm as he saw the figure standing there.

Hearing Malphas' near scream, Sam halted and spun round. He watched in horror as a torrent of water sprayed down into the alleyway and he looked up at the source, gasping in angry fright. "Bobby! No!"

Either unable to hear Sam over the noise from the gushing fire hose or -- more likely -- simply ignoring him, Bobby aimed the water at Malphas and yelled an incantation into the alley below.

Sam leapt back towards Malphas, instinctively trying to pull him from harm's way, but the water soon covered Malphas and he seemed to explode into a cloud of soot and ash. Sam's heart sank and he backed off from the deep puddle that was spreading, staring in disbelief at the vacant spot in the alley where the demon had once stood.

And then a sudden icy shudder ran through him. Clutching his arms around his partly drenched shirt, a painful memory of a similar sensation shot into his thoughts and he wanted to scream but something was sealing his throat tightly shut. Sure his lungs were about to explode, he saw stars dancing in the corner of his vision and then everything went dark.

The fountain of water began to fade into a lighter stream and then a faint dribble. Bobby put down the fire hose and dusted off his hands with a contented sigh. Stepping past the coiled hose onto the fire escape, he galloped down the metal steps and gripped the railing tightly as the stairs trembled beneath him.

Sam was staring dumbfounded at the flooded alley and seemed to be in shock. Bobby approached with caution, ready for the torrent of anger that was sure to erupt at him and already prepared with his defense.

When Sam made no move to even acknowledge him, Bobby sighed in annoyance and stepped closer. "I had to Sam. It was - " He stopped as Sam suddenly snapped his head towards him and glared angrily down at him. And something about his eerie calm made Bobby's skin crawl.

"Why?" Sam asked icily.

"Oh, Sam … you really have to ask?" Bobby replied sadly.

Sam sighed and seemed to be suddenly fighting back tears. "Why can't you just _trust_ me?"

"It's not about trust, Sam. It's - "

"Whatever." Sam husked and turned away, grabbing his soaked bag and heading from the alley, ignoring Bobby's worried pleas as they echoed through the alley.

Bobby watched Sam's disappearing figure and closed his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head and looked down at the deep puddle that surrounded him. He peered at his own vague reflection in the surface of the water and blinked away weary, frustrated tears.


	7. Chaos

It was like swimming in syrup. Not that he ever had. But he was sure the heavy weight on his limbs and the effort it took to simply raise one arm to his pounding head was what it must be like.

Slowly his senses began to come into focus and he groaned as the pain in his head worsened. Listening to the gentle hum of an extractor fan and the rumble of traffic somewhere beyond the building behind him, Sam could then smell a strange pungent odor and his dry mouth tasted of -

"No!" Sam croaked, coughing hoarsely. Sitting quickly upright from his slumped position on the ground, he regretted the motion and groaned as he clutched at his head.

"I'm sorry." Came a gentle whisper beside him.

Sam opened his eyes and darkness greeted him. Gasping in fright, he then felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head towards whoever it was that he could sense was sitting close by. Vague memories then began to surface and Sam held his breath as he let them take shape. Questions. Panic. Water. Bobby.

"No!" Recoiling backwards and shrugging free of the hand that gently supported him, Sam shuffled a hasty retreat across the cold floor.

"I had no choice, Sam!"

Meeting hard brick with a grunt of surprise, Sam huddled against the wall and shook his head in disbelief as the sensation of being filled with darkness surfaced and his stomach heaved.

"You tried to save me. And … this was the only way."

His breath coming in quick frightened pants, Sam peered into the darkness and his eyes began to adjust to what little light surrounded him. Gradually the familiar form crouched a few feet away became easier to see and he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

"I'm sorry."

Confused by the nothing that sat in his mind between reaching out towards the torrent of water and now waking up in god-knows-where, Sam choked on a sob and closed his eyes again. Cool tears met his flushed face and he drew in a shaky breath.

"Seven minutes." Malphas offered carefully.

Sam blinked his eyes open once more and could see the shadowy form edging closer.

"Just long enough to get out of sight."

Clearing his throat and sitting a little more upright, Sam shook his head slowly. "And I'm supposed to believe that."

"Yes." Malphas paused next too Sam's huddled legs and sighed loudly. "I really am sorry."

His weary body trembling and his still-throbbing head filled with painful memories of the last time he had woken with the same foggy, confused feeling that something was so very wrong, Sam rested back against the wall and a sob caught in his throat. But that had been so much worse. Suddenly facing his bleeding, battered brother watching him in fear had been the stuff of nightmares -- and had played back in perfect technicolor agony during many a restless sleep since. Taking a deep breath, Sam tried to take comfort in the fact that, for the moment, it seemed it was just him and Malphas. No disfigured bodies or broken pieces of people he might have hurt.

"I had to make Bobby think he had succeeded."

Sam turned to look at Malphas and frowned in confusion.

"There was no real danger with his crude invention." Malphas continued to explain quietly, "Well, it stung like a mother but - "

"You're too powerful." Sam breathed, fascination lacing the horror in his voice as he had a sudden recollection of sensing the demon within him and knowing that it was something far older and wiser than the immature, anger-driven child that had possessed him before.

"Are you alright?"

Laughing in disbelief, Sam then saw the sorrow in Malphas' pale face and intrigue made his heart skip a few beats. He nodded and took the hand he was offered, groaning with effort as Malphas helped him to his feet.

"Come on. You need to get out of here."

Stumbling after Malphas, Sam stepped through the open door of what he now realized was a storage shed and saw that they were in the centre of the town. Seeing the familiar large blue doors of the garage at the far end of the main street, Sam was about to break into a run when he heard a grunt of pain behind him.

Malphas was doubled over and clutching his chest, his face contorted in lines of agony.

Stepping back towards him, Sam frowned in concern and reached out timidly towards Malphas' slowly fading image.

"No!" Malphas choked, standing briefly to spin back in the direction of the motel. "No! You can't - !"

And he was gone.

Staring at the empty space where even the trademark black cloud did not appear, Sam's frown deepened. He then heard the high-pitched wail of a familiar bird and flicked his head up to see a whole flock of the black crows descending towards the town and screaming wildly.

His heart thudding in his ears and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, Sam felt icy dread wash through him and groaned in dismay. "Oh no … Bobby … what have you done?"

* * *

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, Leo stepped back from the repositioned Impala and smiled in amusement. "She might be pretty, but she could do with losing a few pounds."

Dean gasped in mock offense and patted the roof of the car that now sat parked across the front of the garage forecourt close to the gas pumps. It had been an almost impossible task for the two of them to push the heavy black monster into place and he was exhausted. Still, there was no need for Leo to make derogatory comments about his girl. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, conveying as much to the old guy.

"You know." Leo grabbed one of the fuel hoses and crouched down at the rear fender. "You really should let the sealant dry. 24 hours at least."

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled as he wandered round to stand beside Leo. "Yeah … right."

Leo sighed and slid the barrel of the hose into the all but empty Impala. "Can't guarantee that she'll keep her pressure. You might not get far."

Dean considered this for a second and dragged his hands through his hair. "So long as we get clear of our last reported position, we'll be fine."

Another sigh and Leo focused on his task, frowning in obvious concern.

"Thanks, though."

Glancing up at Dean, Leo gave a small smile and got to his feet. "Dunno 'bout you but I'm ravenous!" He announced with somewhat forced merriment and pointed towards the garage - or perhaps the house beyond. "Back in a sec."

As Leo disappeared into the garage, Dean turned to the fuel pump and watched the counter spinning as the gasoline was pumped into the tank. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and peered at the notes inside. And then a loud screeching tore through the still night air and stung his ears.

Hunching instinctively down beside the car, Dean was then aware of the lights inside the garage flickering slightly. Hissing in dread, he grabbed the hose and stopped the gas flow before recapping the fuel tank and scrambling into the garage.

Quickly stepping over the salt line, Dean peered out into the night sky and could hear the loud flapping growing closer. Automatically grabbing for the .45 nestled in the waist of his jeans, he sheltered behind the open door and waited.

The immense flock of crows descended through the town, spiraling and screeching. Dean watched in horror as the large birds swooped down and dived at the shops and houses lining the main street. They smashed through the glass windows as though they were nothing more than rice paper and Dean's stomach turned as he heard the terrified screams of the people within.

And the main bulk of the flock continued, racing through the air towards the garage. His breath coming in quick, expectant gasps Dean aimed his gun before him with one hand and watched the birds approaching at speed. Grabbing the handle of the large garage door, he grunted as he heaved against it and felt it begin to slide.

The two lead birds at the head of the group shrieked angrily as they flew across the garage forecourt and over the Impala. The door almost closed, Dean looked up in time to see the bright fiery eyes of the birds barely inches from his head. He shrank back from the narrow opening and fired, groaning in dismay as the bullet passed straight through one of the birds without even distracting the creature.

And then the two birds slammed into an invisible barrier that crossed the entrance. Dean jumped back slightly as more birds followed after, thudding against the wall that could not be seen. He glanced down at the salt and grinned in delight. Relaxing his stance, he watched the birds gather, flapping wildly at the half open door and tumbling through the air.

"Dean!"

The shout startled him and instinct took over. Dean spun and fired. He then gasped in horror and dropped his gun to the floor. "Sammy?"

* * *

Closing the heavy, tattered book Bobby sighed wearily and hung his head. Lifting the worn old manuscript from the desk, he turned and gave Ellen a thin smile of reassurance.

"What was that?" Ellen asked quietly, her pale face lined with worry and evidence of her recent tears.

"A protection chant." Bobby shrugged. "Just in case."

Ellen hardly dared ask but curiosity got the better of her. She stood from the bed and followed Bobby from the motel room. "In case of what?"

Bobby closed the door after them and headed along the corridor. "The water should have done it's job but …" He glanced behind and saw her following closely, "But this demon is able to alter perception and take on many forms at once."

"The birds?"

Bobby nodded, "And …" He shuddered slightly as they descended the stairs to the ground floor. "I think the 'human' form was … well … I think it's fooled Sam somehow …"

Ellen gasped and hurried after Bobby into the car park. They strode quickly towards Bobby's truck and she clambered up into the cab beside him. "He seemed to know him."

Firing up the truck, Bobby nodded slowly. "It's a devious bastard, this one."

"Shit!"

Bobby gunned the truck away from the motel and back towards the town. He turned the corner onto the main junction at the head of the town and slammed on the brakes.

Ellen stared out through the windshield in horror and watched the birds swopping down on the crowds that fled along the main street. She gasped as she turned to the people nearest them and watched them clutching at their bleeding faces, desperately trying to defend against the repeated attacks from the flock of crows.

"Oh good god …" Bobby whispered.

* * *

Dean leapt forward across the garage and grabbed Sam's shoulders. He stared in horror at the blood that trickled down Sam's neck and then looked past his brother to the gouged out hole in the plaster on the back wall of the garage.

"Shit!" Sam breathed, smiling nervously.

"Thank fuck for your cat-like reflexes!" Dean offered carefully, shrugging an apology.

Sam laughed and nodded in agreement, touching his fingers to the small gash on the outside of his ear and wincing slightly. Aware of Dean's fists tightening their grip on his jacket and sinking into the flesh of his arms, his smile faded slightly. "I'm sorry, man. I know better than to sneak up on you."

Dean managed a smile and stepped back, clenching his hands tightly at his sides. As if then suddenly remembering the birds, he span and saw that they had gone from the open door.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean demanded, peering warily out into the town and seeing the people that ran from their houses and were instantly attacked by the crows. "Shit! Who pulled a Hitchcock on the town, Sammy?"

"Erm …" Sam dragged a hand through his hair and frowned as he tried to think of how best to try and explain. His opportunity was then torn from him by terrified screaming somewhere behind the garage and he gasped as Dean yelled in anger and hurried past him.

"Leo!" Dean reached the back door to the garage and looked up to see the swarm of black feathers surrounding the huddled form on the steps in front of the house. "NOOO!"


	8. Confession

If she was not watching the horror with her own eyes, she would never have believed that it was possible. Ellen felt nausea building and could hear her own loud pulse in her head as she saw the birds repeatedly swooping down, pecking and clawing at the stampeding crowd.

Some people had managed to find shelter under cars or huddled together inside covered store fronts, shielding each others faces from the birds. But others had tripped and fallen and lay curled up on the road or sidewalks, screaming in pain and terror as what seemed hundreds of huge black crows tore at their skin.

"Ellen!" Bobby scrambled back inside the truck and shoved a shotgun into her lap. Dropping a few cases of rounds onto the seat between them, he hastily loaded a few large pellets and peered out at the chaos before them. He had reverse-rammed the truck through the doors of a storage shed and now looked out through the shattered wood, his breathing fast and loud.

With trembling hands, Ellen began to drop the heavy rounds into the chamber and frowned as she then examined one of the cartridges. "Salt?"

"Best to be sure." Bobby nodded in reply.

Ellen looked back up through the remains of the doors and gasped in horror. "Bobby, what did you _do_?" She turned to see him frowning as he concentrated on preparing his shotgun.

Bobby was silent as he glanced at her, ensuring she was ready. Shotgun in one hand and poking the barrel through the open window beside him, he gripped the steering wheel and lurched the truck forward.

XXXXX

The force of the sharp blows was unbelievable. Dean's legs buckled beneath him as he struggled up the steps and waved his arms wildly, trying to fend off the birds. He grunted in pain as he was pecked and clawed at, some of the attacks finding their mark and tearing through his shirt.

Reaching the top of the steps, he shouted angrily and ran forward. The birds erupted into the sky away from the still form and he fell to his knees beside Leo. Seeing the trails of blood that lined the mans arms and torso, Dean groaned and carefully grabbed Leo's shoulder to roll him onto his back.

Leo gasped as he was moved and covered his face in fright. But the birds were gone.

Dean was suddenly aware of the silence and looked around them, frowning as he saw not even one of the birds that had just seconds ago seemed to fill the air. He then heard the wooden steps creaking behind him and turned quickly, his heart sinking as he saw him.

Sam ascended the stairs slowly, his face pale. He glanced behind him and saw the gang of birds that sat calmly watching him from the edge of the garage roof.

Unable to fathom just _what the fuck?_, Dean watched Sam continue his approach and his mouth was dry, his heart sinking.

"Is he okay?" Sam urged quietly.

Dean tore his gaze from his brother to check on Leo and sighed in relief as he saw the old guy looking up at him. Shocked and bleeding from a few nasty gashes, the man was otherwise unharmed and Dean helped him clamber to his feet.

"Trudy!" Leo urged shakily, seeing Dean nodding in immediate understanding.

"I'll get her." Dean offered.

"No!" Sam hurried up beside them and flicked a quick glance at the birds. "We all need to get inside." He ushered them both towards the house and they scrambled into the kitchen.

Dean pulled out a chair beside the kitchen table and helped Leo sink wearily down. He then saw Sam frantically searching in the cupboards and frowned down at the stunned old man slumped before him. "Please tell me you guys don't have a low-sodium diet."

Leo looked up at him in obvious confusion and then heard Sam's quick translation of his brother's remark. "Salt?" His frown grew, "Sure … there's some in the cupboard by the door." He pointed across the kitchen to redirect Sam.

"We kinda need a shit-load." Dean urged, not relishing the idea of running the feathered gauntlet to get their supply from the trunk of the Impala.

"I got a sack of gritting sand in the garage." Leo shrugged, "For winter."

Dean glanced at Sam and saw his shrug of _it might work_. He then watched his brother carefully lining the door and window sills with the small packet of cooking salt he had found.

"Trudy?" Leo reminded softly.

Sam gasped as he saw his brother make for the door into the hall and leapt after him. Shoving the bag of salt into Dean's hands and nodding in reassurance, he opened the door and hurried into the house.

His mind racing, Dean continued the salt lining where Sam had left off and tried not to think about why or how his brother was apparently immune to attack. Memories of his brother escaping the nightmarish effects of a demon-plague filled him with dread and he paused in the corner of the kitchen to lean against one of the cupboards and catch his breath.

Trudy was apparently more irate by having been dragged from her bed by a strange man than she was scared by his urgent insistence that she was in danger. And then she caught sight of her bloodied husband and flew across the kitchen with a cry of horror.

"What have you done to him?" Trudy demanded shakily, standing protectively in front of Leo and glaring in fury at the two strangers in her kitchen.

"Honey." Leo urged, taking her arm. "It's okay. These are the boys whose car I'm fixing."

"What?" Trudy's gray eyes sparked with fresh anger. "What? You thought you'd beat up and old man instead of paying?" She raised her fist and advanced on the nearer of the two. "You make me sick!"

"Gertrude!"

Trudy was startled by her husbands' shout but made no move to back down, standing ready to attack the man that was leaning against her cupboard in cautious uncertainty.

"It wasn't them!" Leo sighed, "They saved me!"

"Oh." Trudy slowly backed off, mortified. She offered a small shrug of apology and straightened her flannel nightgown.

"Jeez, woman …!" Leo laughed softly.

Trudy turned to her husband and her tight shoulders softened as she saw his bloodied, pale face. "Good god, babe … what happened?" She grabbed a towel from the railing nearby and moved to the sink to run it under cold water. Squeezing out the excess, she hurried back and pulled out a chair to perch opposite him.

"I'm not sure." Leo answered quietly, wincing as she cleaned the cuts on his face.

"Did you call Henry?" Trudy inquired distractedly, examining the gashes on his cheeks.

"No." Leo glanced at Dean and shrugged slightly.

Dean took a deep breath and stepped closer to them.

"Why not?" Trudy demanded, spinning at Dean.

Sam saw the way his brother instantly backed off from the five-foot-nothing white haired woman and suddenly wanted to laugh. He would have, too, if he had not been so weighed down with that evening's confusing blend of dread, fear and horrible understanding.

"They were just kids," Leo offered after a moment, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. "I guess they wanted cash. I'm not usually open this late - "

"And this is exactly _why_!" Trudy sighed, tucking her bobbed hair behind her ear and her frown deepening.

"I think I know who they are." Leo continued quickly, "I'll call Henry first thing."

"Hmph! Just tell _me_ their names." Trudy mumbled in annoyance, "I'll have a word with them."

Dean laughed softly and stayed well back in his safe spot back in the corner of the kitchen. He saw Trudy turn to him and raised his hands in a quick apology.

Trudy smiled warmly and sat back against her chair. Satisfied that her husband was in no danger of bleeding to death, she tossed the towel across to the sink and grinned as it landed perfectly on target. "Well … I guess I ought to thank you two boys …"

Dean watched her warily as she stood and turned to face him.

"Coffee? Slice of pie?"

Suddenly remembering how hungry he was, Dean could not contain the grin that filled his face. He nodded quietly and then turned to Sam. His heart sank as he saw his brother peering out into the night and Sam's worry-filled face brought Dean swiftly back from relaxed to once again tense and so very scared.

Sam seemed to realize he was being watched and stood up straight, painting a smile on his lips as he turned back into the room. "Sounds good. Thanks." He replied to Trudy and gave his brother a small nod.

Dean sat down at the small kitchen table and watched his brother in concern as Sam headed over to join them. A thousand questions rushed around in a mad panic within Dean and answers too scary to contemplate chased after them.

Trudy placed a steaming mug of coffee before him and he welcomed the distraction, savoring the aroma gratefully. He then saw the large home-made pie she pulled down from within the fridge and placed between them on the table.

"Blueberries okay?" Trudy asked and saw him nodding eagerly.

Dean felt the gentle pat of one of her small hands on his back and smiled to himself as he recalled the mad ball of fury she had embodied just moments before. Wondering if his grandparents might have been like her, he felt a pang of grief and shoved the notion from his thoughts.

Watching Trudy give Sam an equally warm smile and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, Dean saw a similar wistful gaze wash over his brother's otherwise unreadable expression. And suddenly he was back by the lake a few weeks back, begging his brother to give him some time to think and almost breaking down with the weight of it all. Once again he could feel the pressure of too many worries and he found himself yearning for a life so very different to their own.

And then came a sudden recollection of seeing the photograph, driving up to the house and seeing her answer the door. It was only yesterday when he had been caught up in the illusion of a wish he had not recognized in himself until he was holding his mother.

The old couple were tired and still shaken, Leo perhaps more than the surprisingly tough Trudy. Sam chewed quietly on the sweet, perfectly baked pie and could read his brother's thoughts as easily as if Dean was talking to him. The notion made him almost physically shudder and he thought back to Malphas' words.

More to prevent offending Trudy than to satisfy any hunger, Sam devoured his pie eagerly and gulped down his coffee. Catching Dean's eye and seeing him also finish his food quickly, if a little more hungrily, Sam took a deep breath and thanked their hosts.

"You boys had best be going." Leo agreed quietly, not making any attempt to hide his obvious fear that their presence was endangering him and his wife.

Trudy was oblivious to the menace lurking outside and began to offer the boys a room for the night. She was startled by her husband's protest but seemed satisfied with their gracious decline.

"Thank you for the pie." Dean stood slowly, patting his stomach in emphasis. He turned to Leo and his smile faltered. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his wallet and collected a handful of notes. "I think this should cover things."

Sam saw the look the two men exchanged and understood the fear that lay behind Leo's eyes and the sorrow in his brother's; there were some things that all the money in the world could not make right.

XXXXX

It was like something straight out of one of the arcade games Jo once used to endlessly hustle naive new patrons into losing. Ellen had hardly taken a breath along the entire length of the main street, her focus entirely on aiming and firing.

The salt worked. And that in itself was terrifying. But there was something equally satisfying about blasting the evil black crows out of the night sky and watching them explode in a burst of ash and smoke.

Cracks lined the front windshield and blood smeared across the outside where several repeated attempts by the birds to smash their way in had fallen foul of Bobby's toughened glass. She glanced sideways and saw Bobby splitting his attention between guiding the truck along the street and firing at the birds. He had to swerve to avoid ramming some of the fleeing townspeople and his face was tight with concentration.

And suddenly they arrived at the garage. Bobby swung the truck up onto the forecourt and, still shooting, they hurried inside. He saw the salt in the threshold of the large doors and sighed in relief. Chancing taking a moment to pause and catch his breath, he looked around at the empty garage and his heart slammed into his chest.

"Where are they?" Ellen demanded breathlessly.

Bobby groaned and closed his eyes.

Ellen's shoulders fell and she edged closer to Bobby, wearily dropping the shotgun at her side. "Oh no …"


	9. Mistake

The Impala was as much a part of Dean as one of his limbs. The emotional connection with what Sam had once viewed as nothing more than a collection of metal and leather had long been a source of amusement for the younger brother. But sharing time on the road in the old Chevy had opened up Sam's eyes to a simple, sentimental side of the usually complicated Dean and he understood all too well now that the car was not just a car.

And right now the car was a loud speaker for the silent thoughts in his brother's mind. Sam clutched the seat tightly with his right hand and braced his left arm against the dash as the Impala tore through the dark countryside. Dean had not muttered a single word since they had left the outskirts of the town but the way he drove spoke volumes. The engine loud and the cornering tight, Dean was mad as hell.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered into the silence of the interior.

Dean kept his gaze fixed, his grip tight and his speed constant.

Sam's lips tightened and his nostrils flared as he felt frustrated anger rising. "It wasn't entirely my fault, y'know ..."

And that got a look. A brief _like hell_ and then more silence.

"And besides … it worked. Well, it did at first." Sam insisted nervously, hating the lack of response he was receiving. "I mean, it's a chaos demon - of sorts - and I just needed a diversion to lead the Feds from our trail and you have to admit that part worked okay. Until Bobby interfered." Sam pursued quietly, turning to look out of the window and frowning in annoyance at the night that blurred past him.

And then he felt the Impala begin to slow. Flicking his gaze back forward, sure to see yet another set of blue strobes that they would need to swerve off the highway to avoid, Sam saw only darkness beyond the headlight beams. Knowing the only other reason for Dean to ease off the gas, he turned to his brother and saw that his frown had softened.

Turning in his seat and relaxing his vice-grip on the seat, Sam waited for his brother to speak. Even mad as hell angry, Dean was an excellent driver and putting his thoughts into words meant he had a little less concentration and hence the car would slow. It was a rhythm Sam had soon learned to read.

"You. Summoned. A. Demon."

His heart racing, Sam heard the disappointment in Dean's quiet voice and had to still the instant stubborn rebuke that wanted to break out.

Dean glanced over at Sam and gave a small shrug, offering nothing more.

Sam frowned in confusion, wondering if this short statement was all he was getting. And then thinking that perhaps it was all he needed. He looked away to study his hands and consider his response. If there was one.

"Shit!"

Sam looked up quickly and saw the bright florescent lines that marked out the patrol cars waiting at the junction ahead of them. Looking out into the darkness, Sam could make out the moonless sky sweeping over suddenly open countryside. Glancing at Dean, he could see the same thought crossing his brother's face; there was nowhere to hide.

Decelerating at a much faster rate but still quickly approaching the wide crossroads clearly lit in the headlights, they rolled along the road in silence. They were in trouble: turning around would raise suspicion and also led straight back to the very chaos they were fleeing.

Frantic 911 calls from just about every terrified resident in the town had mobilized the sheriff and generous back-up from the surrounding towns. Not wanting to chance seeking cover amid the panic that had erupted when killer birds had attacked, they had instead decided to get the hell out of there and away from the many law enforcement agencies congregating in the town.

Sam frowned as he peered out at the waiting cars gathered at the junction and could now see the unmarked black sedans waiting behind the patrol vehicles. Glancing at Dean, he knew his brother had also seen them and he closed his eyes.

"Sam? That one of yours?"

Flicking his head back up, Sam followed Dean's gaze out of his side window and gasped in fright. A large crow flew casually along beside them, matching their speed and keeping a constant distance a few feet from the car.

"Sam!"

"I … I don't know!" Sam stammered, sitting up straight. He then looked out of the opposite window and saw four more of the black birds in a similar formation. His breathing quick, he tried to recall Malphas' words and then remembered his brief explanation of how he altered perception. "They change how things appear … I think … well …"

The roadblock was approaching fast. Dean glanced between the officers signaling for him to pull over and his confused, frightened brother.

The birds then suddenly pulled away and sped in front of the Impala. Instant understanding dawned as Sam watched the birds climb out of the headlight beam and swoop down towards the roadblock.

"Well?" Dean urged impatiently.

"It'll be okay." Sam nodded.

Dean nodded and pressed his foot to the floor.

"No!" Sam gasped in horror, feeling the sharp acceleration and grabbing at the dash for support. "I don't mean - !" He saw the officers react and ducked instinctively, shielding his face with his arms as they impacted with the front edge of the first car.

* * *

The old pick-up sat nestled behind a tall hedge and waited. Hidden from the road but close enough to the town just in case, they had pulled off and now sat in silence at the edge of the small forest.

"Which way would they have gone?" Ellen asked quietly, her low voice suddenly loud in the silence that filled the cab.

"The Feds came into the town from the south." Bobby responded in all but a whisper. "Dean will have gone north." He turned to Ellen and saw the instant question in her tired face. "Or maybe not."

"So, what do we do now?"

Bobby took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the seat as he sighed out a groan. "Wait for a sign."

"A sign?"

Bobby turned up the volume on the radio and police chatter sputtered out intermittently. "If the Feds really are headed this way, they'll be using local law enforcement to watch the roads."

"That's pretty thin, Bobby." Ellen argued, "Dean knows as well as any of us how to stay hidden." She saw the small smile that twitched under Bobby's shaggy beard and nodded slowly. "You don't want to hear anything, do you …?"

Bobby shook his head, "I just want to be sure."

"You don't mean to follow them?"

Turning to look into Ellen's soft face once again, Bobby's eyes betrayed just how much he needed to find the two brothers and hold them close. But he shook his head slowly and cleared his tight throat. "We'll wait here in case we're needed and then we'll head north-west."

Ellen frowned, "The roadhouse?"

"Ash can track the demon and I can finish the job." Bobby felt Ellen shudder slightly and recalled how well attacking the demon head on had worked so far. "I just can't take the risk that it'll get to Sam."

Ellen watched Bobby in interest and a gentle frown wrinkled her brow. "You know way more than you're letting on."

Bobby made no reply.

"Tell me." Ellen moved a little closer to Bobby and placed her hand on his arm. "What did John tell you about him?"

"I …" Bobby kept his face away from her imploring eyes and shook his head. "It's a long

story …"

"Good," Ellen smiled softly, "It'll help pass the time."

* * *

Sam slowly chanced lowering his arms, his body rocking back and forth as the Impala bounced and thudded over the muddy terrain. Sighing out the breath he had been holding for what seemed an age and gasping in shock, he stared in disbelief at the cracked windshield.

Three perfect round holes punctured the glass, a spider-web of cracks surrounding them and streaking out towards the edges of the screen.

"Holy crap!" Sam husked, his throat dry. He shook his head slowly, full realization of what had just happened taking its time to sink in. "Holy shit! Dean? Are you _insane_?" He span towards his brother and stared at him in horror, "You were supposed to _stop_!"

Dean seemed to ignore him, his attention focused on the uneven terrain that he could barely make out amid the bouncing headlight beams.

"I meant that we'd be ok if we _stopped_!" Sam continued, exasperated. He looked behind them and sighed in disbelief. "I can't believe you just did that! Shit! They'll be rounding up a full-on manhunt!"

Looking back at Dean and seeing his lack of interest, Sam's frown grew and he groaned loudly. Then seeing his brother turning off the headlights and gasping as they were plunged into darkness, Sam looked out into the night and sighed in dismay. "What? We're gonna hide out here? Oh, great idea, Dean! Yeah, it's not like the FBI don't know how to follow your tyre tracks or anything!"

The Impala continued along the edge of the field, bouncing over grass-hills and dipping into plough furrows. As Sam's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a darker shadow against the star-filled sky and gave another impatient sigh. "A barn? We're gonna hide out in a barn? What you _want_ them to find us? Dean? Have you completely lost it, man? I mean, this place just screams 'hey, bad guys are in here'!"

Dean eased the Chevy around the side of the barn, putting the large wooden building between them and the road beyond the field.

"Great." Sam slammed his hands into his lap and gave a derisive snort. "Fabulous plan. And he says _I'm_ crazy!"

"Sam …"

"Fuck!" Sam shouted in frustrated anger, "I _so_ can't believe you just rammed a road block! Great way to stay low, Dean."

"Sam."

Sam shook his head and peered out at the endless expanse of varying shades of grays, blacks and darkest blues of the midnight countryside. His hot, angry breath wafting a cloud on the inside of the window, he stared beyond the glass and his mind was racing. After a moment he spun back and could just see his brother's ghost-like image in the darkness of the car. "Just … what were you thinking, dude …?"

"Sam, I - "

"No, seriously, Dean. Enlighten me as to the genius of your latest idea." He waited impatiently for his brother to respond, his hands shaking as adrenaline still charged around his body. And then something about his brother's silence made his skin go cold. He should have been arguing, fighting, defending. Sam's breathing slowed and he edged a little closer, suddenly afraid that his brother had gone past the point of no return and really had lost his mind.

Sam could feel his body calming and began to regret his outburst, sure that his brother was now upset with him. It was classic Dean upset pose; arms locked straight against the steering wheel, face staring forward and avoiding eye contact with Sam.

"Sammy …?"

"Yeah." Sam shuffled even closer but instantly froze as Dean suddenly groaned and hung his head, his elbows giving way slightly and his head sinking forward. Sure that his brother was fighting back tears and remorse making his chest ache, Sam reached out and placed his hand on Dean's arm.

"I think - "

Sam waited patiently for his brother to continue, remembering how moments like these usually resulted in an unexpected bombshell that he had no reply to and sent his mind reeling. _I ought to have stayed dead, I'm tired of this life, Dad said I might have to kill you_. And that moment yesterday when all strength seemed to have left Dean and he seemed to be mourning all over again their mother's death, unsure if any of what they had achieved together was even worth it.

"I think I'm hit."

Sam frowned. It didn't make sense. And then, in an instant, Sam remembered the holes in the windscreen and the world seemed to stop spinning. Then he was opening his door to make the interior light come on, blinking in the sudden brightness and seeing his brothers deathly pale, exhausted face.

"Where?" Sam demanded, panic building faster than his shaking hands could keep up with as he checked Dean's frozen form. His breath coming in rapid sobs, he grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled it open. His hands brushed against wet cotton and tears stung in his eyes. "Oh god, no!" He husked, seeing the blood soaked flannel shirt.

Dean looked down and grimaced as he saw the blood, letting out a gentle whimper of fear. As is finally having proof of what he had been so far been able to somehow ignore, his shoulders sank and he began to slowly shake his head in disbelief and sorrow.

His fingers trembling, Sam grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled it upwards. His brother made a sound like Sam had punched him in the abdomen and Dean doubled over, his forehead thudding against the steering wheel between his fists.

Sam flinched back from Dean and wiped away tears, watching his brother's face grow tight with the pain he fought against. After a moment, he heard Dean release a sigh and Sam moved in a little nearer. "Let me look."

Tensing against the pain that even the slightest movement caused, Dean hissed through clenched teeth and sat back upright. He winced sharply as Sam again lifted the shirt clear and then opened his eyes, chancing taking a look at his brother and seeing the horror on Sam's face.

"Aw, shit!" Dean grated, slumping back against the seat and letting his head sink to the side. He rested his cheek on the cold glass and sighed a cloud on the window.

Sam could not tear his eyes from the gently weeping hole in Dean's skin, his vision blurred by tears. He then saw the blood at the base of the bench seat and frowned slightly, noticing that it didn't meet with the dark patch on the front of Dean's jeans. Pulling the flannel shirt out from behind Dean and hearing the sob of pain it caused, Sam saw the soaked material and his heart sank.

Dean tensed against Sam's touch and moaned in protest as his brother tried to roll him away from the seat. "Ow! Sammy, no!"

"Oh, shit, Dean …" Sam muttered, easing his brother forward and seeing the bullet hole in the leather covering the back of the seat.

"Please - !" Dean panted, his eyes shut tightly as he was gently eased back against the seat. Letting go of the steering wheel, he lost his support and shuddered as he slumped against the door.

"Fuck." Sam breathed, seeing the sweat that glistened on Dean's milky skin. He grabbed Dean's arm and pressed his fingers against the inside of his wrist. Fast and irregular. Not good.

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head slightly, yawning wearily as he tried to catch his breath. He saw Sam studying his cellphone and frowned slightly. "No … no hosp -" He closed his eyes and moaned softly.

"Fuck that." Sam countered sternly.

"No!" Dean insisted, "5-0, Sam - "

"I know!" Sam insisted, a little too harshly, "I'm not calling 911, dammit! I'm calling Bobby."

Dean gave a small nod and his face then creased into a wince of pain. "Sam?"

"I'm here, Dean." Sam managed tearfully, moving closer and grabbing Dean's hand, choking back on a sob as he felt how cold his fingers were. He put his phone to his ear and rested his forehead against Dean's shoulder, hearing the gentle whimper hitched on the end of each of Dean's labored breaths.

"Sam - ?"

"Yeah." Sam assured, hearing the call connect and the dialing tone kick in.

"I'm … I'm so- ...sorry."

"What for?" Sam lifted his head and watched Dean suddenly calm, his eyes closing. "Dean!" He nudged his shoulder and gasped as he got no response. "Dean!" He shook his brother roughly and sobbed in panic, then gasped as he heard the voice in his earpiece. "Bobby!" He cried into the handset. "Oh god, Bobby! I need your help!"


	10. Resurrection

It was impossible for him to decide what was worse; the moments of still silence when his brother faded out of consciousness or the brief minutes of lucidity when Dean would cry out in pain and fight against Sam's efforts.

Stopping the bleeding was becoming almost impossible and Sam was fast running out of dressings. He'd gone through the gauze supply in the small first aid kit within seconds and was now down to items of clothing. The latest wad of cotton was Dean's faded, torn Metallica t-shirt and something told him he might just get his ass whumped for destroying it.

The dark, dried blood on his hands was sticky and itchy. And the smell was not something Sam was overly fond of either. Suddenly wondering quite what the appeal was to vampires, he sighed and pressed the quickly soaking rag of a shirt against the wound.

Bobby was on his way. He was trying to find a back route to the field in the middle of nowhere that Dean had cleverly chosen -- although Sam could let him off this once, knowing how much pain he was in and how it might just have affected his judgement. But Bobby getting here as soon as possible was not made easy by the amount of police in the area either and Sam hated that he could not call for help like any ordinary person; he would probably have a chopper landing beside them in minutes.

_Blood. Sirens. Helicopter_. It was all too painful a memory and Sam felt fresh tears building as he thought back to the last time he had seen his brother in such a mess, slumped against the leather of the Impala. He was sure he had lost Dean in that hospital. He said then that he could not handle the trauma of it all and now here he was faced with an almost identical situation.

Dean shuddered suddenly and gasped back to awareness, hands instantly grabbing for Sam and trying to push away whatever was stabbing into his back.

"Hey! Easy … come on … lie still … it's me." Sam chimed gently, much as he had every few minutes since he had called Bobby.

"Sam - ?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"What - ?" Dean arched his back away from the pad of wet dressing and grabbed Sam's arm, his fingers sinking into Sam's skin.

"Wo!" Sam prized his arm free and held Dean's hand firmly. "It's okay." Leaning over him, he could see his brother's pain-filled eyes trying to focus and sighed in sympathy. "Bobby won't be much longer."

Dean frowned and stared unseeing up at Sam's worried face. "Where's Dad?"

Sam bit back on a sob and hung his head. _Not again._ And then Dean suddenly relaxed, his head lolling back down against the seat.

Sitting back on his heels, Sam raised bloodied hands to his face and pressed his palms over his eyes, letting a few dry sobs escape. He then looked back down at his brother and leaned closer to again check he was still breathing.

Sam had lowered the front bench seat flat and created an almost bed-sized area to lie Dean across. It had helped at first; getting Dean's head down and raising his legs had redirected his blood supply and brought him back round after he had faded out that initial time. But now there seemed to be nothing Sam could do to keep his brother with him and his aching chest was sure that at some point Dean would regain consciousness for the last time.

Dean's skin was hot and tense around the entry wound in his belly and Sam knew he was bleeding inside. His limited knowledge of anatomy gave him enough insight into how much of a mess Dean was in but not enough to do everything necessary to save him. Helpless and so very angry, Sam hung his head and just let the tears fall.

He heard the noise despite the pitiful sound of his own weary crying and Sam lifted his head, wiping his face with the back of his arm and suddenly very alert. His eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness around him, he saw the figure approach and made a quick check of his brother before clambering from the car.

"Bastard!" Sam spat in fury, launching himself at the shadowy figure. He knew it was a futile effort before he even passed through the apparition and landed with a thud in the grass, but it had felt good nonetheless.

Malphas watched in quiet concern as Sam clambered to his feet and brushed himself down. He then glanced inside the car and groaned softly in dismay. With the door open, the interior light displayed the full glory of the mess inside and he sighed as he turned back to Sam. "It was never supposed to be like this."

"What?" Sam couldn't help the icy laugh that gushed forth, "You mean I might have made a mistake? Already realized that, you son-of-a-bitch!" He glared, sneering at Malphas in disgust. "To think I almost trusted you."

"Sam - "

"Shut the fuck up!" Sam hissed, advancing on the demon. "In fact … _Exorcizamus te, omnis - _"

"No!" Malphas recoiled in fright and held up his hands, "Don't!"

"Give me good reason why not." Sam countered, hate sparking in his eyes.

"You'll set them free again."

Sam paused and frowned in intrigue. "Who?"

Malphas relaxed his stance and watched Sam timidly. "The other chaos demons." He saw Sam shaking his head in confusion and took a deep breath. "When you called on me, you opened the door for them as well. I can control them but - "

"Bobby!" Sam gasped.

Malphas nodded eagerly, "He weakened me and I had no hold over them. That's why they attacked the town."

Sam seemed to understand and nodded slowly. He then pointed towards something behind Malphas and gave a small, satisfied shrug. "Bobby."

With a gasp, Malphas spun and saw in the middle distance the dark shape of the truck against the night sky. "Shit!"

Sam saw the fear in the demon's face and could not contain his smile of pride as he considered how powerful their father's friend must be. Making a mental note to ask Bobby more about his past, Sam then peered into the Impala and saw his brother was shaking violently.

Scrambling back inside the car, Sam looked on in horror as the seizure passed as quickly as it had started and his brother was once again still. His vision blurring with tears, Sam reached out and placed his fingers against Dean's neck.

"He doesn't have long."

Sam spun and glared at Malphas angrily, not even wanting to know how the demon knew such a thing. His jaw tight in defiance, he watched Malphas peering inside the car and desperately wished he had never summoned him. He gasped as Malphas met his gaze and nodded in sympathy. "Oh, please!" Sam spat in open hatred, "Don't give me that shit!"

"I can save him." Malphas offered quietly, apparently choosing to ignore the obvious rage directed at him.

Sam growled under his breath and turned away from the demon in disgust. "Don't even try to use my brother to - "

"You need him."

Sam shuddered and felt the air around him grow cold. He closed his eyes and started reciting his own little mantra in his head, desperate to stay calm and in control and to not listen to the lies being whispered to him.

"I know of the plans for you, Sammy. Dean has to survive."

At this, Sam spun round and met nothing but the darkness beyond the open car door. Aware of his brother stirring, he looked back and saw Dean gasping for breath. He quickly grabbed Dean's shoulders and sat him up a little, feeling his brother trying to snake his body around the agony that twisted in his gut.

"Sa - mmy -?"

"I got you." Sam clutched his brother against him and could feel Dean trembling. He closed his eyes and buried his face into Dean's shoulder. "Stay with me, man."

"Tr - y -ing - "

"Good." Sam sighed, glad to hear his brother's more coherent -- if exhausted -- words. "You just hold on. You hear me?"

Dean groaned out a sigh. "Yes … sir."

Sam smiled and hugged Dean even tighter, now able to hear the gentle rumble of Bobby's truck approaching them. He could feel Dean's shallow breaths against his cheek and the effort each one seemed to take. Instinctively he began to carefully rock his brother's limp body and before he knew what he was doing he started humming quietly.

Dean gave the slightest moan of appreciation and what sounded like an attempt at a small chuckle. "Th - anks."

Sam smiled and hummed a little louder, wondering if Dean was going to remember this moment and rip him apart for it.

"Co - old."

"I know, dude, I know …" Sam wrapped his arms further around Dean's shoulders and gently rubbed his back. "Help is coming."

"Dark."

Sam froze. He leaned back from Dean and the orange-white glow from the interior light made the blue shadow around Dean's lips seem suddenly so obvious. "Dean?"

Nothing.

"Dean!" Quickly laying his brother back down and lifting his heavy booted feet up onto the dash, Sam waited for a sign that Dean was still with him. With shaking hands he checked his pulse and the air left Sam's lungs as if he'd been punched in the gut.

The sound of the truck was growing louder as Sam leaned his head down and lifted Dean's chin, pressing his lips around his brothers and blowing air into his mouth. Tears poured down his cheeks as he sat back up and placed his interlaced hands in the centre of Dean's chest, the Impala rocking wildly as he pressed down repeatedly.

His sobs loud in the confines of the car, Sam could almost feel his brother slipping away from him and it was ripping his heart in two. Suddenly he stopped the compressions and slumped back onto his heels, his body jerking with his desperate cries. And amid his hoarse pleading for Dean to just wake up, he called out a name.

Dean arched his back up from the seat and drew in a long, painful breath. Coughing dryly, he frowned in confusion and turned to look up at Sam.

"Dean?" Sam choked, aware of the voices calling out to him and the two people that frantically leapt down from the still-rumbling truck that had pulled to a stop in front of the Impala.

Sam watched as Dean smiled weakly and gave a small nod. He held his brother's determined gaze and sighed in relief.

"It's okay, Sam …" Dean whispered, his hazel eyes glazing over to become the darkest black. "I've got him."

Closing his eyes and sure the world had stopped spinning on its axis, Sam was vaguely aware of the door behind him being wrenched open. He heard the voice that called out to him but exhaustion and fear kept him from making any reply.

"Shit!" Bobby opened the passenger door and leaned inside the Impala. "Oh good god …" He reached inside and touched Dean's shoulder, as if confirming it really was him lying there.

"Sam?"

Pulled from his confused thoughts at last, Sam turned his head and met Ellen's tear-filled eyes. There was fear there and more than a hint of hesitation. Sam forced a smile to his dry lips and gave a small shrug. "Fucked up … big time …"

"Hmm." Bobby husked, "Well, there's no time to dwell on it now. We gotta get Dean to a hospital."

As if suddenly remembering his brother, turned back to see Dean lying quietly beside him. "FBI … gotta be careful."

"I know." Bobby nodded curtly. "But what choice do we have?"

And Sam gasped as the answer came to him. "You take him. I'll keep them distracted."

"What?" Ellen urged.

Bobby was aware of Ellen shaking her head at the idea but had to agree that it made sense and he watched steady determination fill Sam's pale face. "Keep 'em occupied." He offered quietly, "We'll get Dean to help."

Ignoring Ellen's protests, Bobby grabbed Dean's shoulders and began to pull him from the car. Sam followed closely, lifting Dean's legs and helping transfer his limp body across to the pickup.

"This is crazy!" Ellen insisted angrily, scurrying round the Chevy to help load Dean into the cab of Bobby's truck. "We need to stick together!"

"No." Content that his brother was safely positioned in the truck, Sam stepped back from the open door and turned to her. "They want him more than me. You need to get him clear."

"Sam …!" Ellen shook her head slowly and took hold of his arm. "What are you planning?"

He saw the fear in her eyes and knew that somewhere inside Ellen was now re-evaluating the danger that so many of the hunters thought that he could be. His heart sank and he stepped away from her.

"We need to go!" Bobby called, climbing up into the driver's seat of the pickup.

Ellen kept her gaze on Sam. "Please …"

"Just - " Sam's voice was tight and he cleared his throat. "Just save my brother. Okay?"


	11. Triage

Like a team of army ants, the medical personnel scurried into the trauma room and quickly surrounded the gurney. Each person quickly assessing and implementing appropriate treatment, yet all of them working in synch with the other and communicating rapidly in the abbreviated hive language.

Fluid therapy, blood transfusion, oxygen saturation, organ function, prep for the OR. After only a few minutes, she was stable and ready for transfer upstairs where the surgeons stood ready to put her back together. It was not necessarily the best of signs but also a great help when the casualties were unconscious; the team could get on with all that they needed to do, the patient willingly submitting like a rag doll in their hands.

Evelyn glanced through the glass partition between trauma rooms and could not help the pang of jealousy that rose within her. Watching her colleagues start to move the woman out of the room and towards the lifts, she wished her current task was quite as easy. Almost on cue, a flailing arm broke free from the many hands that tried to restrain it and Evelyn got a thump on her arm from a swinging fist.

"Shit!" One of the orderlies hissed in response and quickly grabbed the escaping limb. "Sorry, Doc. You okay?"

Shrugging her shoulder and groaning with the pain in her upper arm, Evelyn nodded and frowned in annoyance at the patient before her. "Come on now. Stop it!" She ordered gruffly, unable to withhold the anger in her tone. "We're trying to help you!"

"No!" The man retorted desperately, arching his back and straining against the straps which the team had hastily strewn across him.

"Haloperidol?" Bev suggested quickly, ready with a fresh syringe and a vial of medicine.

"Not yet." Evelyn sighed, "We can't risk sedation until we know exactly what we're dealing with." She spun towards the door to the room and saw the two security guards that stood in anticipation just inside the doors. "Hey!" She called above the chaos of the staff trying to assess and the patient trying to escape. "Can someone go see where his folks have gotten to?"

"Dead!" The man suddenly husked quietly, "All dead!"

Satisfied that someone had left to seek out the man's family, Evelyn turned her focus back to him and saw that he had suddenly calmed. A wave of exhausted, relieved sighs moved around the room and she joined them wearily.

"Gone …"

Seeing the tears that suddenly flowed from his closed eyes and trickled down the sides of the man's pale face, Evelyn edged a little closer. "That's it … easy now … can you tell me your name?"

A slight shake of his head and a quiet sob.

"Well, my name is Evelyn. I'm a doctor. You're in hospital." She continued softly, "Can you understand me?"

"Hurts." He responded, his shoulders and knees lifting a little as he tried to curl around the pain in his abdomen.

"Okay!" Evelyn quickly placed a gloved hand on his chest and leaned a little lower. "Lie still. It's okay. We're trying to help with that." She frowned in concern and was aware of the team of staff prepping equipment and poised ready to try once again to treat him. "D'you remember what happened?"

A slight groan escaped his tight lips and he nodded, his face creasing in pain and fear. "Shot."

"Yeah." Evelyn confirmed quietly, "And we're trying to patch you up. Okay?"

"No!" The sudden return of anger and strength to his voice had everyone instantly on edge but he lay still, his jaw trembling as more tears fell.

"Easy." Evelyn soothed, pressing her fingers gently into his shirt and stroking the cotton against his skin.

"But - " He tensed against a wave of pain and held his breath as he willed it to pass. "You don't … you don't understand …"

Evelyn paused as he turned his head and suddenly he was gazing up at her, his eyes full of pain and terror.

"I can't be here." He whispered in earnest, "Please …!"

"We have to treat this." Evelyn countered, glancing at the blood-stained skin of his abdomen. She watched him close his eyes and took his silence as something of a surrender, if not absolute consent. Glancing up and nodding at her colleagues, she saw him suddenly tense once more as several pairs of hands began to touch him and she patted his chest lightly. "It's okay … it's okay ..."

* * *

Cleaning the dark blood from the leather seats had taken him longer than he had first thought. And it had given him time to think. Hands shaking from exhaustion and withheld emotion, Sam threw the last of the bloodied cotton shirts onto the small pile beside the car and trudged round to the trunk.

Sam's heart was heavy as he doused the pile of ruby-stained cotton with lighter fuel and flicked open the lighter. It was wrong, so wrong; burning evidence of his brother just seemed an awful omen and Sam bit back new tears as he watched the flames grow.

"He'll be okay."

Jumping at the sudden voice and flying back to the open trunk in readiness to grab a suitable weapon, Sam then saw the figure taking form on the other side of the fire.

"They got him to the ER." Malphas confirmed quietly. "He's in good hands."

"No thanks to you." Sam spat angrily, "I oughta send you right back to - "

"Fine." Malphas retorted wearily, "Go ahead." He watched Sam's stance relax and sighed as he saw him shaking his head in confusion. "I'm sorry, Sam …"

Sam frowned in interest and watched cautiously as Malphas approached him.

"I wish I could be what you want me to be." Malphas continued quietly, side-stepping the flames and stopping in front of Sam. "But … I can't change what I am." He was sure Sam shuddered slightly and a small smile pulled at his mouth. "What I can do is get rid of your pesky spook problem. Once and for all."

Sam gasped and gave a small shake of his head, backing up against the Impala for comfort.

Malphas's smile faded, "Or at least slow them down."

Watching Malphas warily, Sam rested his arms against the rear wing of the car and took a deep breath. "When did you … you know … 'leave' …?"

"Just before we arrived at the ER." Malphas replied, chuckling suddenly. "And quietly. Much as I would have loved to see the surprise on Bobby's face!"

It wasn't funny and Sam's glare said as much. Seeing Malphas instantly sober and offering a shrug of apology, Sam was intrigued by the sway he held with the demon and curiosity made him pause for a moment.

"Well." Malphas strode towards the passenger door and peered inside the hastily cleaned and repositioned seats. "Shall we?"

* * *

"My god, Bobby … what've we done?"

"Exactly what we had to do." Bobby replied easily his voice quiet as he watched her looking sadly down at him from the cab. "There was no other way."

Ellen held his gaze for a time and her frown deepened. "Are we really sure of that …?"

Bobby groaned and pushed back from the truck, lifting his cap to wipe his face and arching his aching back. "Well …" He replaced his cap and threw up his hands in surrender. "It's too late to change any of it now, so …" Looking back into the truck, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Little or no point in second-guessing …"

Ellen was silent, her gaze returning to the dark, sticky matter on her hands. "We should have listened to him … supported him." She closed her eyes and let out a loud, shaken sigh. "He's right, y'know … he's not a child."

Bobby gave a derisive snort and shook his head. "Yes. He is."

Lifting her head, Ellen met Bobby's stern expression and she took a deep breath. "After all that he's been through … all that he's seen …" She swallowed back the lump in his throat. "We never gave him time to explain."

"None of this is our fault, Ellen." Bobby reminded curtly, frowning in annoyance. "It was him that called that thing!"

"And us that interfered!" Ellen retorted quickly, anger flashing in her blood-shot eyes. "We made things so much worse!"

Bobby groaned and gave a dismissive wave of his arm.

"And now we've left him there. Scared, pissed at us and alone." Ellen saw Bobby pause and caught the wince that let her know she had a point. "And he's a Winchester."

Bobby spun to face her and frowned in concern.

"You know he's bound to do something stupid." Ellen concluded.

Nodding slightly, Bobby stepped closer to the cab and then gasped as one of the nurses came running out of the entrance to the ER and breathlessly ordered them to hurry inside.

Ellen was out of the cab in a flash and hurried after the retreating nurse. Oblivious to all else inside the crowded, noisy ER she followed closely as the nurse hurried back to the trauma rooms at the rear of the department.

The doctor looked up at Ellen and smiled in recognition. Beckoning her enter the room and approach the gurney, she nodded in reassurance. "He came round when we started to assess him." She smiled thinly, "And he wasn't best pleased."

Seeing the orderlies standing ready and the straps gently holding Dean down, Ellen returned the doctor's kind smile and stepped closer.

"What's his name?"

"Dean." Ellen replied, seeing the name catch Dean's attention and reaching out to grasp his hand as he stared up at her in confusion and pain. "Dean Harvelle."

"Okay. My name is Evelyn and I'm the Chief Resident. We need to stabilize Dean and get him quickly to surgery. Tell me, does he have any medical conditions, allergies or anything else we should know about …?"

Ellen was not listening. Stunned by the emotion in Dean's face, she squeezed his trembling fingers and moved closer to the gurney. It had been automatic, instinctive; they would need a surname and it was the first logical choice. She had no idea how Dean would react to hearing her say it. And it broke her heart as she saw grief and longing mingling with the pain etched in his pale face.

"I'm sorry. Ma'am?" Evelyn urged, placing her hand on Ellen's shoulder. "We need to know anything important that you can tell us about your son."

And there again was the look in Dean's eyes that made Ellen suddenly want to gather him up in her arms and promise him that all the hurt was nothing more than a bad dream.

"No." Dean offered in a whisper and shook his head, giving Ellen's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No!" Ellen repeated, gasping as she suddenly realized that Evelyn had been talking to her. She turned to the doctor and shook her head. "Nothing."

"Good." Evelyn nodded, "We've paged the surgeons. They'll be here soon."

Looking back down at Dean, Ellen saw the grimace that crossed his face and felt the tension in his hand as Evelyn began to gently examine his abdomen. She covered his fingers with her free hand and moved in closer, her hips brushing the outside of his thigh. "It's okay …"

Dean turned his head and focused on her, smiling gratefully. "Sam?" He then frowned.

Ellen held her breath and forced a smile to her lips. "He's fine."

"Where is he?"

Not knowing quite how to respond, Ellen then moved back to allow the nurses access to his legs and watched as they untied the straps.

"We just need to roll you over." Evelyn was explaining softly.

The grip on her fingers became almost painful and Ellen watched in concern as Dean screwed up his face and bit back on a cry of agony. He groaned and arched his neck back, trying to be cooperative but the movement as many pairs of hands gently turned him onto his side made sweat gather at his temples.

Instinct took over and Ellen prized her fingers free, stepping quickly around the nurses that supported Dean. Moving between the staff and crouching down before his face, she placed her hand on his cheek and quietly urged him to breathe calmly.

"Ellen - ?" Dean gasped.

"It's okay." Ellen stroked his cool skin and stroked back the damp hair that clung to his forehead. "Shh. I'm here."

"Where's Sam?"

"Safe, honey."

Dean opened his eyes and blinked to focus on her, wincing as the medical staff continued their assessment. "You … promise?"

"Yeah." Ellen replied, the lie made all the easier by the visible calming effect it had on Dean. She forced a smile to her lips and rested her hand on his face, hoping that Sam would not do anything stupid.

* * *

God knows how he had found them. But found them he certainly had. Sam again checked the rear-view mirror and cursed under his breath as he saw the dark, unlit sedan glimmering in the moonlight.

"Fuck …" He glanced at his quiet passenger and a frown settled over his eyes. "What now?"

Malphas turned and peered out through the rear window. He then looked to Sam and saw obvious fear and rising panic. "Lose him."

"What?" Sam gasped, staring out at through the rain-swept night to see the forest road winding up into the hills.

"Just do it." Malphas urged in quiet calm, "I know what I'm doing."

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Sam could feel his heart racing and he slowly shook his head. "Fine." He gritted his teeth as he felt the acceleration pressing him back against the leather seat.

Sam sighed in dismay as his sudden lurch forward had forced the pursuing driver's hand. The Ford's lights flicked on and the car was quickly matching their speed, if not gaining on them. Aware of the Impala sliding on the wet tarmac, Sam held his breath and pressed down on the gas, holding the wheel with both his hands and muttering a silent prayer.

The road was curved and the cambers dragged the Impala dangerously close to the edge, the grass verge the only thing that stood between the car and the drop amid the tall pines. Sam watched the corners approaching rapidly and felt the back of the car swaying away from under them. Confident in his handling of the car but suddenly wishing that his brother was driving, he held on tightly and listened to the howl of the powerful engine.

Sam chanced a glance in the mirror and saw the twin beams behind them swing across the road. Guessing the Ford had lost grip and was swerving too wildly, he then noted the growing distance and smiled in wary relief. Reaching the top of the hill, the road then altered gradient and for a moment he could see the straighter path amid the forest. Downhill and with less curves, he was sure that he could increase the gap and held back on the brakes as the Impala dropped her nose over the summit.

And then he heard it. Like a sudden clap of an engine backfiring. Only neither of the cars had done so.

Sam peered in the rear-view mirror and watched the Ford leap over the brow of the road and charge after them. In the surrounding darkness the bright flash was obvious and he recognized the flare, hearing the confirmation of another bang.

This time the Impala shuddered with the impact and Sam growled angrily. He could well imagine the gun that was pointing out of the Ford's window and he swallowed back the lump in his throat.

"Steady." Malphas urged softly, "Just wait."

"What for?" Sam demanded.

"Him to make a mistake." Came the reply, "It's just you and him out here. He's over-confident. And it will be his downfall."

Another shot thudded into the car and the rear of the Impala suddenly swung wildly. Grunting with the effort of holding the car steady, Sam quickly corrected the skid and then felt the drag on the near-side. "Fuck!" He spat in fury. "I can't hold her! Shit!"

The car was slowly starting to turn. Tipping to one side and losing grip on the wet asphalt, Sam had no choice but to ease off the gas. But he was still going too fast for the crippled car to cope with and he yelled in fright as the tires lost grip and the Impala swerved wildly.

The water sitting on the road gave little help as the car nose-dived into a tight spin, the headlight beams flashing dizzily across tree trunks, then approaching Ford and then tree trunks again. Sam cried out in anger and gripped the wheel, desperately trying to correct the spin and aware of the car banking into the turn. He hung his head and could hardly breathe as the centrifugal force pinned him against the door.

Then there came a sound that made Sam's heart leap into his throat. Over the whistling of the Impala's slipping tyres came a loud screeching. And Sam knew the noise.

"Let go!"

"What?" Sam grated, unable to focus on Malphas in the spinning car.

"Trust me." Malphas urged.

Sam closed his eyes and groaned in dismay, wishing dearly that he had not opened that damned book. But without any other obvious choice, he held his breath and lifted his hands from the wheel.

The screeching rose in pitch and was getting rapidly closer. Sam chanced opening his eyes and cried out in terror, holding his hands up in front of his face as the headlights sped towards him and the out of control Ford slammed into the side of the Impala.


	12. Recovery

Slowly the thick, cotton-padded sounds in the room began to take form and he focused on the strange noises. A sudden dread filled him as he recognized a familiar bleeping and his head pounded in perfect synch with the bleating pulse. Wishing that the annoying tone would leave him alone, he groaned softly and then heard a new sound. Compelled to open his eyes, he blinked in the painful brightness and then saw a blurred face loom into view.

"Oh, thank god!"

Realizing that his hands were being gently cradled either side of him, he then felt his fingers squeezed excitedly and frowned in confusion.

"Hey!"

Turning slightly, he saw another hazy face move into focus and sighed in relief. Unsure for moment exactly why he was so pleased to see that his brother was okay, he was nonetheless glad and felt his dry lips pull into a small smile.

"Dean?"

A gentle tap on his cheek and he realized he had closed his eyes. Looking back up at the two anxious faces, he managed a nod in reply.

"I'll go let the nurse know." Ellen offered, grinning merrily and winking in reassurance at Sam as she wandered from the room.

Sam watched her leave and then perched back on the chair beside his brother's bed. "Dude … I'm so sick of watching you lying unconscious."

Dean turned his head and frowned up at Sam. "Hey …?"

"You know where you are … right?"

"I … erm …" Dean licked his cracked lips and sighed wearily. "Hospital, I guess."

Sam smiled, "You remember what happened?"

Dean closed his eyes and thought over his response. Moving his free hand slowly across his abdomen, he winced slightly and gave a small nod.

"Man!" Sam laughed nervously, "What kind of crazy shit was that, huh? I mean, did you really think - "

"No."

Sam watched his brother turn and gaze at him with tired, sorrow-filled eyes.

"When it comes to you, I don't think." Dean continued quietly, "I just do whatever it takes. Okay?"

Sam flinched a little at the anger that laced Dean's voice and looked down at the beige linoleum floor beneath his brother's bed.

"Just like you did when you opened that book."

Sam flicked up his head with a gasp and, ready with his defense, was surprised to see the small smile that rested on his brother's pale face.

"I understand, Sam. I know why you did it."

Sam stared at Dean warily and took in what he could of his brother's calm expression. Unable to believe that Dean was offering a rational debate and at a loss without the blind fury that usually accompanied discussions of this type, Sam could only watch his brother in silence.

"Still doesn't make it the plan of the century."

Sam chanced a smile and nodded slightly.

"And really I ought to tear you a new one but …" Dean looked away and there was a hint of a grimace as he adjusted his position in the bed. "I know what you were trying to do ... and … I get it."

Sam could feel relief and doubt fighting for supremacy within him. As good as it was to hear his brother's words, this wasn't Dean. Surrender just wasn't in him. And it sent an icy shiver up Sam's spine.

"I guess we all have a breaking point, Sammy."

And Sam's heart sank. Thinking back over all the moments like this over the past few months when his usually indestructible big brother would show signs of cracking under the strain of it all, Sam wondered if this was more than even Dean could handle. And regret tasted bitter on his tongue.

Sighing heavily, Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back the lump in his tight throat. "I just wish you'd talked to me about it first."

"Would it have made a difference?"

Dean paused and then shot Sam a small smile. "No."

Sam matched his smile and felt it warm him a little. "Man …" He shook his head and slouched in his seat with a small, nervous laugh. "I think I'd prefer you to just launch at me … this calm talking is so not right."

"Oh, make up your mind, Sammy!" Dean sighed wearily, his smile spreading, "You want girlie chat or not? Dude! I can't keep up!"

"Sorry."

Dean watched Sam for a short moment and then shook his head slowly. "Me, too." He took a deep breath and winced as the action pulled at his injuries. "For so many things."

"No." Realizing he was still holding Dean's hand, Sam squeezed his brother's fingers and edged a little closer. "Man, I've lost count of the number of times you've pulled my ass out of danger … or taken a hit for me … or … well …" He sniffed back tears and nodded slightly. "I guess I never thank you for that."

Dean considered his brother's words for a moment and then a gentle frown settled over his eyes. Lifting his free arm, he studied the plastic IV line that tapered down to sink under the skin on the back of his hand. "Morphine, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. That explains it."

"What?" Sam urged worriedly.

"Why I'm sharing this shockingly sweet moment with you." Dean pulled his fingers free from Sam's and covered his face with his hands. "Dude … talk about picking your moments. You knew my defenses were down." He groaned wearily and then gave a gentle laugh. "Bitch!"

Sam wiped his wet face with the back of his wrist and chuckled softly. "Saw my chance and took it." He agreed merrily, swallowing back further tears. "Jerk."

"So …" Dragging his hands down his face and then flopping them onto the mattress either side of him, Dean sighed loudly. "Where is your demon buddy now?"

Unsure how to reply, Sam looked down at his hands and gave a small shrug.

"Sam?"

"I don't know."

"What?" Dean turned to his brother and frowned uneasily. "You let him go?"

Another shrug in response and Sam fell quiet once again.

"Sammy?"

With a groan of dismay, Sam stood from his chair and avoided his brother's gaze as he headed across to the window and peered out at the grey morning sky. Watching the rain running down the glass, he contemplated how to explain all that had happened and could hear Dean's repeated urges for a response becoming more panicked.

After a while, Sam turned and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. He rested back against the window sill and took a deep breath. "I still had to get the feds off your tail, man …"

Dean watched as his brother quickly told all that had happened in the hours since Bobby and Ellen had rushed him to the hospital, leaving Sam with the demon and a town-load of trouble. Not best pleased with the whole notion itself, he listened in silence as Sam spoke of hiding from the sheriff's department, scattering the last of the chaos demon birds and then fleeing from Henricksen.

Sam took a moment to allow his words to settle and his brother's expression was unreadable. But the rapid two-step of the heart monitor revealed all and it's shrill melody filled the room.

"But …" Sam shrugged and stepped away from the window, crossing the gap between them to stand over his brother. "I couldn't let him die there." He explained, recounting dragging Henricksen from the wreck and how close they had both come to going up in flames with the car. "I guess that's a good thing, huh? I'm not a monster, after all." Sam's flicker of a smile was lost in the worry that filled his face as he watched Dean close his eyes and roll his head away from him.

"Come on, man, I'm sorry." Sam urged quickly, leaning over the bed. "I was desperate and afraid. I know I fucked up but it worked out okay in the end. Didn't it?"

Dean was silent, the fast bleeping heart rhythm still betraying all as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Dean? Please, man. I need you to talk to me." Sam continued, his nerves making his words spill out in almost a jumble. "It's you and me, man. You're all I've got. I need to know we're okay." He timidly reached out to place his hand on Dean's arm and flinched as his touch was instantly shrugged off. "Aw, come on, Dean! Please! I said I'm sorry."

"Sam - " Dean began in a whisper.

"I didn't know what to do! I can't lose you. Not now. Not after everything." Sam closed his eyes and tears tumbled down his flushed face. "I was desperate. But it's okay now. Right?"

"Sam, shut up!" Dean suddenly shouted, spinning back to him and gasping as the movement pulled at his side. Grabbing at his abdomen, his knees and shoulders lifted from the bed and torn muscles screamed in protest. The pain was intense and he arched his neck, his face reddening with the strain.

"Dean?" Sam grabbed his brother's shoulders and leaned closer, watching him struggling against the pain he was in. "Dean, you gotta breathe!"

The infinitely fast heart rhythm was now slowing at an alarming rate and Sam shook his head in panic. "Come on, man! Relax, okay?" Sam then began to search for the nurse call button and stepped back from his brother for a second, glad for an excuse to look away from the open agony on Dean's face.

Suddenly the room door opened and, with a gasp of shock, Ellen quickly put down the coffee she held and hurried over to Dean. Glancing at Sam for answers and finding none, she leaned over the bed rail and placed her hands on either side of Dean's face. "Hey … honey, it's okay."

"Hu-urts!" Dean hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, honey, I know." Ellen quickly sought out the button for the morphine drip and gave it a firm push. She then moved back to face him and leaned even closer, holding his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his. "Just let it out. Okay? Let it go." She murmured softly and gently stroked his temples with her thumbs.

Sam took a few steps back from the side of the bed, feeling suddenly awkward and in the way as he watched the tender moment. And then he saw the way Dean began to respond and for a second, Ellen's blonde hair tumbling past his brother's face, he finally understood just how hard it had been for Dean to live the nightmarish wish the Djinn had created and how it must have broken his heart to leave. It was rare to see such open yearning in his brother and was disconcerting. And it saddened Sam that he had never missed their mother's presence quite as powerfully.

Dean reached up and grasped Ellen's wrists, sighing out a little of the breath he had been holding and then gasping a new as pain shot through him.

"Shh …" Ellen stroked her hands down his face and onto his shoulders, smoothing out the tension there. "Easy … let it go, honey … that's it …"

His shoulders finally resting back against the mattress and his knees down, Dean exhaled the last of the tension with a weary groan. Keeping his eyes closed, he let go of Ellen's wrists and whimpered slightly as she instinctively placed a small kiss on his forehead.

Ellen paused for a moment to ensure Dean was calm and then turned her head to look over at Sam. Her heart sank as she saw him slumped against the window, hanging his head in obvious sorrow. Stepping back from Dean and noting his lack of reaction as he succumbed to much needed sleep, Ellen walked round the bed and approached Sam slowly.

Aware of her nearing, Sam's shoulders tensed and he backed against the window. "Where's Bobby?"

Ellen sighed and halted a short way from Sam. "Repairing the car."

Nodding in understanding, Sam gave a brief, cold chuckle and lifted his head to face her. "And avoiding me."

Shrugging her shoulders, Ellen tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. "Who knows what the hell goes on under that godforsaken truckers' cap of his." Seeing the instant smile she was hoping for, Ellen moved closer and placed her hand on Sam's arm. "It'll be okay, honey."

"Yeah." Sam sighed, "I guess it has to be. Somehow."

Ellen's smile fell away and she blinked away tears. "God, Sammy … we'd have given anything for you kids to not know any of this life …"

Sam watched the sorrow of years filled with pain cross her face and stepped away from the window. Instinct took over and, before he knew what he was doing, he put his arms around her and hugged her against him. Feeling her respond and wrap her arms about his waist, he rested his cheek on the top of her head and pulled her even closer.

* * *

The roof of the hospital was awash with deep puddles of the relentless rain. Clouds hung low over the city and hid back the vain attempts the morning sunshine made to break through the water logged sky.

Usually busy with staff climbing up to the small terrace to catch a lung-full of nicotine in their mid-morning break, the drenched rooftop was empty except for the two dark shadows perched on the edge of the building.

Peering out over the rain-soaked city, the younger of the two lifted his face to the sky and moaned contentedly as water pounded against his pale skin.

"Oh, please!" The other scoffed derisively, "Don't tell me you have some romantic affection for this bag of skin and bones I created for you."

"Hmm …" Malphas murmured, sticking out his tongue to taste the rain. "It's been too long."

"Yeah, right."

Malphas lowered his head and turned to his companion, amusement flickering on his lips. "What? You don't enjoy this?"

"Enjoy what?"

"The sensations … the emotions … the very essence of 'being' rather than existing."

With a groan of disgust, the elder of the two shook his head and looked away. "You always were full of whimsical nonsense, Mal."

Malphas watched the greying man in interest and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Then why choose me?"

"Because I knew you could be trusted to let your pathetic emotions get in the way."

Flinching at the sudden anger in his companions tone, Malphas frowned and looked down past his dangling feet to the street below.

"Anyone else and the prize would have been damaged."

His frown deepening, Malphas glanced up at the man beside him. "He certainly is powerful."

The other nodded happily.

"But …" Malphas took a moment to choose his words and looked out through the rain. "Perhaps not as dark as I feel you would wish him to be."

"Give it time." Came the assured response, "Confusion and chaos is your speciality and you have worked wonders on my boy."

Silence fell between them and rain spattered on their drenched shoulders. Malphas was lost in his thoughts and then suddenly aware of gentle, pitying laughter beside him.

"You like him … don't you."

Malphas gave a small shrug in reply.

"Oh, Mal … you've been living among them for too long …"

Malphas shook his head in quick protest, "I just don't - "

"NO!" The sudden fury seemed to echo in the air like a rumble of thunder and the bright flash of yellow in the older man's eyes mirrored the gentle flicker of lightning somewhere in the distance.

Malphas watched in silent dread and dared not breathe.

"You are here at my bidding and can be just as easily sent back."

Malphas saw the bright yellow glow begin to fade and sighed in relief, nodding quickly.

"You forget yourself, Mal." The elder demon continued, an icy smile pulling at his eerily calm face.

"Yes, my lord."

"Now … tell me everything you read from them." The yellow-eyed demon urged. "Starting with that meddling Harvelle bitch."


	13. Calm

**Six days later**

Flicking through the files displayed on the plasma screen and frowning in thought, Sam tried hard to ignore the pacing of his elder brother. He focused on his research and rubbed at the back of his aching neck, frowning as he read again through the information.

Dean reached the door of the small motel and paused for a moment before turning and marching back across the room. Like a caged animal, he counted out the strides to the other side of his confines and sighed in frustration.

"For god's sake, Dean!" Sam groaned suddenly, leaning back from the laptop and throwing his hands in the air. "Can't you watch TV or something?"

Dean glared a warning at his brother and spun to make his return trip across the garish green and orange carpet.

"What?" Sam sighed, following his brother's slow march past him. "It's you that's on home arrest, Dean. Not me. Why do I have to suffer?" He shook his head slowly and clenched his fists. "God, I could handle some of these hunts by myself - "

Halting abruptly, Dean's faraway gaze was suddenly focused. He fixed his eyes on his brother and his shoulders fell.

"Right …" Sam recalled, remorse stirring somewhere beyond his frustration. "You don't want me out of your sight."

Dean nodded and returned to his maddening pacing.

"So, in the meantime, this is your plan? You hoping I'll get so mad at you that I'll give in?"

Dean made no reply, reached the door and turned back across the room.

"The doctor said two weeks and two weeks it is." Sam stated evenly, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to his computer and hunched over the screen. Wishing he'd taken Ellen up on her offer of a bed for the time Dean needed to recover -- and longing for the many escape routes staying there would have offered -- he peered at the new information he had pulled from the internet and took a deep breath as he read through the files once more. The words danced in front of his weary eyes and his head span dizzily as, in the corner of his vision, his brother reached the far wall and turned to march back across the room.

"Okay!" Sam slammed the laptop closed and groaned in annoyance. "Shit!" Dragging his hands through his hair and getting to his feet, he dropped his arms by his side and shrugged in defeat. "Fine. You win."

Dean stopped abruptly and turned to his brother, frowning warily.

"You win." Sam repeated, throwing his hands in the air. "Pack your stuff."

A small smile danced on Dean's lips and he regarded Sam in suspicion. "You're yanking me, right?"

"No." Sam groaned, "I'm getting us out of here before I kill you."

"Ha!" Dean cheered merrily and hurried over to stuff a few clothes into his hold-all. "Done. Packed. Let's go!"

Sam picked up his computer and gathered together the papers scattered across the small table.

"Come on, Sammy! Look lively!"

"Dean!" Sam glared a warning and padded slowly over to his bed. "I swear … one of these days …"

"What?" Dean laughed merrily, "You'll use the force on me, Ani?"

Shoving the last few items into his back-pack and shooting daggers at his brother's grinning face, Sam shook his head in despair. "But you're only riding shot-gun." He reminded wearily, "You stay in the car and behave. You hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Cap'n." Dean gave an exaggerated salute and swung his bag over his shoulder. Wincing as the action pulled at his side and quickly dropping his bag lower, Dean hoped his brother had not noticed and opened the door.

Sam followed Dean out to the car and loaded their bags into the trunk. Making his way round to the driver's door, a sudden memory of his brother bleeding to death in the sleek black Impala slammed into him and he paused for a moment.

"Come on, Sammy!"

Opening the door and sliding inside, Sam could not help but smile at his brother's bright, eager grin and shook his head in dismay. "Remind me again why I even _try_ to reason with you."

"Aw, don't be like that." Dean urged merrily, "You were just as cranky when zombie-Barbie broke your hand."

Sam shrugged slightly and slid the key into the ignition.

"So." Dean took a deep breath and sighed happily. "Where we going?"

"Ohio." Sam answered, guiding the car from the parking lot and gunning it out onto the main road.

"Uh-huh." Dean responded thoughtfully, "And what's in Ohio?"

"Possibly a vengeful spirit or maybe a poltergeist. Local news reports point towards the latter, what with items disappearing and electrical equipment malfunctions."

Dean nodded quietly.

"It'll be boring." Sam offered, smiling in amusement.

Dean sighed and rested back against the seat. "It's scenery." He countered with a shrug and looked out of the window at the town that passed by.

Sam suddenly laughed and reached over to place a gentle thump on Dean's arm. "It's a good job I love ya, dude!"

Flinching in protest and rubbing at his arm, Dean then grinned in response and turned back out to the road as a contented smile rested on his mouth. The Impala then rocked suddenly as the near-side wheels shuddered over a pothole in the poorly maintained road. Without thinking, he hissed in protest and closed his eyes, his left hand sliding across his abdomen to support the still healing wound.

"Dude?"

Keeping his eyes closed, knowing all too well the angry concern that was being glared in his direction, Dean sighed out the breath he was holding and quickly raised his hand away from his side. "I'm okay."

"Right."

"_Sam_."

"Dean."

"Dude!" Dean turned and frowned in annoyance at his brother. "Stop with the mother-hen routine, okay? I can stand, I can walk. I'm fine." He shook his head slowly and focused his frustration out at the road ahead, unconsciously looking for more holes in the asphalt. "I just have to be outside, okay?" He continued, his anger fading, "I never could stand being cooped up all day."

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly and kept his attention on guiding the car along as even a course as he could along the aging back road. "Why do you do it?" He ventured after a moment.

"Do what?"

"Push yourself so hard."

Dean had no reply and watched the countryside sailing by.

"I mean … what are you trying to prove?"

"Oh god, not now, Sam - "

"Yes, now." Sam countered, his voice suddenly loud with frustration. He guided the Impala towards the edge of the road and carefully pulled to a stop on the grass verge.

"Aw, hell." Dean groaned, turning to Sam with a pleading groan. "Just leave it, okay?"

"Sorry." Sam switched off the engine and turned to face his brother squarely. "Not this time."

Dean sighed and looked away, suddenly finding the cracks on the dash in great need of study.

"A couple of months back it was you begging me for a chance to stop and catch your breath." Sam persisted evenly, "Now it's me asking you to slow down."

"Guess our timing sucks, huh?" Dean offered merrily, chancing a look up at Sam and shrugging slightly.

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "But seriously … let's do one of your crazy-ass ideas, or something. Huh? Let's do the Grand Canyon or Amsterdam."

Dean grinned at the thought and crooked an eyebrow. "Now that _is_ tempting …!" He agreed quietly, giving a weary sigh. "But - "

"But what?"

"This." Dean pointed to the maps and scribbled notes piled on the front seat between them. "The job."

"Screw the job!" Sam laughed suddenly, "Hell, everyone needs a little R&R every once in a while."

Dean regarded his brother in suspicion for a second, his smile growing. "This really you?"

Sam returned the smile and nodded slowly. "It just seems like forever since there was anything more than 'the job'." He held up his hands to express the enormity of the word and then flopped them back into his lap. "And …"

"And?"

"And I hate what it's doing to you."

Dean's smile slowly faded and he looked down at his hands.

"You're exhausted, man." Sam continued. "And it makes you one grumpy S-O-B." He saw the brief grin that generated and sighed in relief. "Hell, maybe we need a time-out just so I don't smack you down."

"Or get your ass kicked trying."

Sam shrugged, deciding to let that one pass for the sake of the delighted grin that suddenly took years off of his brother's pale face.

Dean watched Sam regarding him in concern and took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I kinda thought the brave face was still working."

"Not with me." Sam corrected softly. _Or Ellen, _he wanted to add but decided better of it, knowing Dean would be upset at the thought of being discussed by the pair of them. That and the slightly embarrassed way he had avoided the farewell hug she had offered before she left, obviously uncomfortable with how far he had dropped his guard.

Ellen had covered the awkwardness with a quick crack about having to get back before Ash drank her profits and Dean had clearly been relieved. She had then turned to Sam and shot him a quick _talk to him_ look before leaving the hospital room. _Yeah, right. Might as well try to start a conversation with a dry wall_, he had chided to himself. But here he was, having almost a chat with his stubborn-as-hell big brother.

"Okay."

Sam was pulled from his musing and frowned slightly. "What?"

Dean shrugged and looked over at him. "If you swear there'll be no more fluffy talks … I'll take it easy for a while longer."

"Really?" Sam urged, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Really."

"Okay." Sam threw up his hands and sighed in happy relief. "Cool."

"I'll go where you want and I'll be a good patient. So long as there's fresh air, open space and plenty of beer."

Sam laughed in delight and span round to start up the engine quickly before his brother changed his mind. "Colorado it is, then." He guided the Impala back onto the road and gave another brief laugh. "Dude, a _real_ road trip!"

"Okay, getting scary now, freak-boy."

"Sorry."

Dean smiled and pulled the map out from under the pile of papers between them. "What about Ohio?"

"Someone else can pick it up." Sam shrugged. He glanced across and saw the slight discomfort that Dean obviously had at the notion. "Or call it in?"

Dean nodded thoughtfully and then suddenly laughed. "Dude, this is _so_ Stan Lee."

"Sorry?"

"Well … you with your superpowers, contacts in the business who we call on for help, secret hideouts and stuff. It's totally comic book."

"And you would know this _how_?"

"Dude, wherever Dad would take us, there was always a comic book store." He caught the look of surprise that was shot at him and gave a brief shrug. "What?" Dean defended, "My collection came in handy. The original edition Spider-man's paid for the first .45 I bought."

"Huh." Sam frowned as he watched the road, a smile dancing on his lips as a distant memory surfaced; an image of his brother sat cross-legged on a motel bed, head bent low over his latest purchase. "But …" His smile grew and he glanced at Dean. "If I have the superpowers … that makes you the sidekick."

"Oh, no way!" Dean scoffed, grinning back at Sam. "Dude, I _own_ the Batmobile!" He nodded firmly and patted the dash. "'Sides … I'm the eldest."

"Oh, that old chestnut!" Sam smiled, enjoying the banter and glad to see his brother so animated.

"So what does this make Bobby? Alfred? Aunt May?" Dean giggled, then seeing Sam suddenly sobering. "Hmm … he was still pissed, huh?"

Sam gave a small shrug. "You could say that. He kind of avoided me." He took a deep breath and blew out a long sigh. "Ellen thinks he just needs time to calm down."

Dean considered this for a moment and nodded thoughtfully. "At least we got each other."

It was so sincere and offered so freely that it brought a sudden lump to Sam's throat. He smiled and blinked away tears as they reached the freeway and he headed west to start their vacation.

XXXXX

It was well after dusk when they arrived in the outskirts of the town and a few hours since Sam had surrendered once more to his brother's incessant nagging and let him take the wheel. An easy choice between listening to Dean's constant whining or helping his stubborn brother stagger into bed later that evening with a handful of painkillers after pushing his healing body too far. And to be fair Sam knew he had lost the battle as soon as Dean asked to drive.

Taking the chance to catch some sleep of his own, quietly content in the knowledge that his brother was healed enough to be able to drive, Sam woke suddenly as the car pulled to a stop and he peered out into the rain.

Dean switched off the engine but left the radio idling, smiling in greeting as Sam stretched out a yawn.

"What?" Sam rubbed his face and turned to his brother. "Why are we stopping?"

"I'm hungry." Dean replied simply.

Sam groaned and checked his watch. "We should keep going. Find somewhere to crash for the night."

"We will." Dean shrugged, "But I need food. Now."

Sam sighed, "Okay, I get it. This is where you turn 180 and actually enjoy convalescing, huh?" Seeing the glint in Dean's eye and already able to hear the futile attempts he would make to try and get his brother to go get his own damned food, Sam groaned and grabbed the door handle.

"With extra onions." Dean added quickly.

"Dude!" Sam protested, "It's me that has to ride with your extra onions." He watched his brother's smile grow and grumbled in annoyance as he climbed from the car.

Dean cranked up the music merrily. "And see if they have any pie." He added as an afterthought, knowing he was pushing his luck but too cheeky not to try.

Sam made no reply and slammed the door closed.

"Bring me some pie!" Dean shouted with a smile, watching his brother trudge towards the roadside cafe, flipping a middle finger up at Dean as he walked away.

Watching Sam head inside, Dean hummed happily to the music and then frowned as the radio began to crackle and die. Tapping the stereo with his finger, sudden icy dread flooded through him and he looked up quickly.

The cafe was empty. Dean gasped and clambered from the car, ignoring the pull in his side as he hurried across the flooded path and into the cafe.

He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. Customers and staff alike were scattered throughout the small cafe, their bodies twisted unnaturally and bright pools of blood still spreading from their slit throats.

His heart pounding in his head, Dean scanned the cafe and murmured worriedly as panic grew. "Sam?" He called out quietly, somehow knowing there would be no response. Making his way through the gruesome scene, he found no sign of his brother and retreated to the the front of the cafe. Backing into the door, Dean groaned and steadied himself, his hand sinking into a fine flour-like substance on the window frame.

Rubbing the yellow, strong-scented powder between his fingers and feeling the world falling from beneath his feet, Dean could not breathe.

"Sam?" He managed after a moment, his voice tight in his throat. "Sam?" Stepping out into the rain swept darkness, his head spinning in terror, Dean clenched his fists and felt panic surging within him. "Sammy!" He called urgently, his voice echoing amid the still trees that surrounded him. "SAM!"


End file.
